It’s 4am. You know, that magical hour when most people are dreaming of tropical vacations or winning the lottery. Me? I’m up, armed with a laundry basket, on a heroic quest to conquer Mount Clothesmore before my mother-in-law arrives. Now, just to be clear, my MIL is an absolute gem—she wouldn’t bat an eye at the piles of laundry multiplying like rabbits across the guest bed and floor, she would just start doing them. But I, in my infinite wisdom, decided that today was the day I’d pretend we live in a Pinterest board.
So, there I was, half-asleep, stuffing socks into drawers and trying to remember if I’d cleaned the bathroom or just thought really hard about it. All of this chaos, of course, is unfolding because I’m packing for four nights away at the Northwest Roundup and Exhibition in Swan River. My suitcase is somewhere between “organized professional” and “frantic raccoon,” and in my pre-dawn delirium, I managed to pack my favorite sandals.
Well, sandal. Twice. For the same foot. Yes, I am currently the proud owner of two left sandals and zero dignity. My MIL will be here holding down the fort with my husband and kids while I’m away, and I’m honestly not sure who to feel more sorry for. I’m sure she’ll overlook the laundry and focus on keeping my little tornadoes alive and fed.
Meanwhile, I’ll be at the Roundup, shuffling around in my mismatched footwear, powered by caffeine and the hope that no one looks down. So if you need me, I’ll be the one napping under a table, dreaming of a home where the socks match, and every shoe has a soulmate.
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