I had one thing to remember yesterday afternoon. One thing. I needed to toss the load of laundry from the washer into the dryer before Reese needed her neon green tee shirt for her final night of dance camp.
Instead, I remembered the laundry seven minutes before we were scheduled to leave the house, right when I already was warily glancing at the clock and urging the kids to focus-and-eat-faster-so-we-won't-be-late. I left my place at the table, dashed upstairs, tossed the shirt into the dryer, cranked the settings to high, and hoped that a few minutes would be enough.
They weren't. The shirt was still significantly damp when I directed the girls to the minivan.
That is, the shirt was damp until a stroke of genius bought me ten extra minutes of all-natural air circulation during the drive.
I'm still patting myself on the back. That shirt was perfectly dry when we arrived. Well played, Robin.
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