Oh crap. Sadie just spit up on The Last Clean Swaddling Blanket, and I didn’t even know it was the last one until she spit up on it and now there isn’t another one. Crap. Did I already say that? Hmm, well.

See, this is the problem with putting away the clean laundry. Because now there are no piles of assorted textiles for me to sort through in either hope or desperation.

Unless, perhaps, there are swaddling blankets in the dryer? [Going to check… going to check…] And… No. A colossal pile of hand towels, yes, but no swaddling blankets. What am I supposed to do, wrap her little arms in a bathroom towel? I think not. Probably.

I did not realize, before having kids, how much my future happiness would depend on a successful laundry strategy. And yet, here I am, faced with the irony of having to choose between staying awake another hour while blankets dry, or having to be awoken at random intervals throughout the night by a flailing-armed baby who wants a swaddling blanket. Go figure.