But lucky for you, I don't. Lifting piles of laundry is an activity that today is making me feel completely exhausted. Folding the duvet cover--I had to sit down when I finished. Thank you, foul flu.
But the rant is not about laundry (though it well could be, as piles of it--clean, thankfully, though since the cat's climbing all over them, that definition is certainly questionable) but rather about small, often plastic, toy or toy-like objects that enter my house once or twice a month, usually in colorful plastic or paper bags. If you're stuck on the birthday party circuit, you know them already--party favors. When did it become an absolute necessity to send every party guest home with a bag full of crap that will end up broken in bits all over their house, cluttering up those drawers into which the things with no homes are placed? I hate party favors. There, I've said it.