Unless it’s a holiday or we have plans, Sunday is always laundry day. Sunday came this past weekend and I was hauling clothes into the laundry area with Abby as my loyal sidekick. She was following close behind, assisting me the way she knows best by confusing my pre-sorted piles. I then lifted the lid to the washing machine and was about to reach for the detergent when it dawned on me that we were out.
“Oh, shit”, I exclaimed with Abby still underfoot.
Without a second thought, Abby makes a dart for the kitchen where J is currently located. Since I’m at the other end of the house, all I can hear are faint mumbles. It sounds a lot like she is repeating “oh, shit” over and over to him, though.
Since I had to ask J to make a run to the store now anyway, I amble in to investigate.
“Is she saying ‘oh, shit’?”, he asks me as soon as my shadow hits the floor.
“Could be”, I affirm. “I was about to do laundry and I said ‘Oh, shit’ because…”
“Don’t keep saying it!”, he told me.
“Oh, yeah, sorry”, I reply. “Can you go to the store? We need laundry detergent.”
“Oh, shit”, he declared in turn.
Clearly, I’m surprised she hasn’t picked this up earlier.