Um, whahht?

I had to share this story with y'all. It was just that funny (well, it is now).

I may or may not have mentioned that my Steve-O and I are a blended family of six. Yes, folks, that's right. Two grown-ups outnumbered by four children (two boys, two girls), three of whom are pre-teens. Scary, huh? We also have a mutt dog, Nutmeg, who is fabulous in every possible way.

Well, needless to say, we have a sheehole ton of laundry to do on a daily basis. We taught the kids how to do their own because it would take us 54645487838511 hours to do all of it....since it is basically a continuous stream of dirty laundry.

So, Monday night, Steve-O and I are getting ready for bed and we hear this massive thud. Being the protective Papa Bear (rawr!) he is, Steve-O checked out all the kids' rooms and closets to see what had fallen, but discovered nothing. We chalked it up to the furnace turning on, and thought nothing more about it.

OHMYLORD were we wrong.

 No, our floor is not usually shiny, toilet tab blue. Yes, that is an entire container of laundry soap (yes, that is the cheapest stuff you can get-because that's how I roll).  No, we did not clean it up then-we had to wait until after work.

And whose fault was this, you ask? Well, that's easy.

Steve-o's, of course. I  NAGGED TOLD him not to put that bottle on the top shelf. He didn't listen because he is one of those anal-retentive "everything has a place and every thing in its place" kind of guys.

I'm actually satisfied that I had to take Bradlette to the doctor for his 11 Y.O. checkup and conveniently missed out on the two-hour long clean-up. HA!

If you're hungry, you could eat off my laundry room floor....