Last night I thought I would finally (FINALLY!) put away the laundry that had amassed on my living room couch. I don’t know how long it had been there, but it was packed in, covering the entire couch from armrest to armrest. My mom had stopped by earlier in the week (Hi Mom!) and put away some of it (Thanks Mom!), but even she couldn’t get through it all in the few hours she had to spare. And the couch had filled back up since then anyhow. I wasn’t exactly neglecting it, we just make more laundry with a newborn in the house. That and I never put any away.

But! On to the point of the story! Which is NOT that I am a lousy housekeeper! Though that figures in! So. I’m folding and hanging. A towel here, a shirt there, socks in a pile. So far, so good! I’m thinking how nice the couch will look when it’s not covered with laundry, how nice the clothes will look hanging in neat rows in the closets, how generally clean and tidy and lovely my house will feel when there’s no longer a wall o’ laundry for living room décor. And then, as I grab a towel to fold, a moth flies out of the laundry pile, buzzes my head, and lands goodness-knows-where while I am still dazed and confused because of the BUGS IN MY LAUNDRY, folks. I was going for clean here. Clean, tidy, sanitary, bug-free. At least free of the obvious kind, with the two inch wings and the hairy moth bodies. And yet, a moth. Living in my clean laundry.

Apparently that’s why one should put one’s clothes away when they come out of the dryer. Well, that and the wrinkle factor. Maybe your family can be free of both wrinkles and bugs; mine, it seems, can not.