Three days ago, you brought your laundry basket upstairs. It had been downstairs stuffed to the brim (and there were several other LARGE piles of clothes that wouldn't even fit in the basket) for about 2 weeks. Upon setting your laundry basket in the kitchen, of all places, I politely (kind of) said that you better not leave it there until the next day. To which you sweetly replied, "Well to be honest, it'll probably be there until I get home from work tomorrow." Meaning yesterday.
Exhibit A: Laundry basket STILL on the kitchen floor.
Exhibit B: You chilling in your chair (with the gosh darn cutest doggy ever!) while the laundry sat there.
Upon threatening that I would post these pictures on my blog, you told me that I better not, and that you'd take care of it later. So I didn't rush to post the pictures. Then this morning, when I woke up after you'd left for work, I was greeted with this:
DOES NOT COUNT as "taking care of it." So, as promised, I have now posted the blackmail pictures! (I am doing an evil laugh as we speak!) I love you to absolute pieces, and you know that. But your clothes are currently becoming wrinkled, and I will just have to iron or wash them again if they stay like this. Please put them away.
PS. Please don't divorce me because of this post. I only have a few followers anyway, so its not like a ton of people know about your laundry-putting-away disability. :)