I am overcome with laundry. Though Molly looks small, she is a producer in mass quantities of laundry. You see, she tends to spit up. And sometimes it's more than spitting up. Sometimes she gushes. Which means a new outfit, a new onesie, a new blanket. . . and more laundry.
Garry is really trying to help out. He puts a load in the washer in the morning before work so that when I wake up I can put it in the dryer and hopefully put it away, if all goes well.
He helps carry the laundry up and down the three flights of stairs (argh! townhouse!) and has been really good about putting his clothes away after I sort them out and put them on the bed.
Garry also irons all of his shirts every night to help get ready for work the next day. (I used to iron but then I caught him re-ironing what I had ironed, and that was the end of that).
But the biggest way he is helping out -- Garry has worn the same shirt four days in a row when he gets home from work. This thing is going to walk to the washer by the time he retires it, but hey, that's three fewer shirts that I have had to wash. Way to take one for the team!