Laundry Day

In the basement this afternoon:

I'm doing laundry and Tim comes running down the stairs.

Tim: Mom!

Me: What?

Tim: Um...

Me: What do you want?

Tim: I forgot.

Me: Get me your dirty pants, please. Take the ones off that you're wearing and put the others down the chute from your room. I want to wash a load now.

Tim: OK. He grabs a pair of jogging pants and heads upstairs.

Ten minutes later

Me: Tim? Where are those pants?

No answer.

Me: Tim!!!!! Hollering up the stairs I need those pants!

Tim: Here they come!

A blue pair comes flying down the stairs and lands at the bottom.

OK, I have one pair. Still waiting on at least two more.

Me: Tim, I need the other pairs laying on the floor of your bedroom.

No answer.

Me: Tiiiiimmmm! Get me the pants off your bedroom floor!

Nothing.

Me: Damn it, Tim! Where are those pants?!

Ten more minutes have passed by this time.

Tim: I couldn't find them.

Me: I said, they are on the floor of your bedroom. You probably walked on top of them several times in the last two days!

Keep in mind that all of this conversation is taking place with me in the basement and Tim in the living room upstairs. My voice was growing hoarse and my throat sore.

Tim: Oh, OK.

Five minutes later, the pants make their way down the laundry chute.

Is it any wonder why some mothers turn to drinking?