The Demon Chute

The struggle is real. I get so annoyed with that phrase but today I’m using it. I’m sweating, my hair looks like I got caught in a windstorm, I’m wearing a dollar store nightgown that says “I 💙 Naps” on it. Oh, also…….didn’t realize until this morning that it is inside out.

Monkey

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I’m up got my son off to school and prepared. I have an in home clothing party tonight and no one is going to stop me. I have this house clean and three loads of laundry to complete. ON. MY. A. GAME.

I throw my husband’s work clothes down the chute that he for some reason loves to tuck into the corner 3 feet from the chute itself.
They get stuck, I grab the pool stick that I hide in my bathroom closet because I am not even kidding this chute is obviously my arch enemy.
I have to move the piece of wood that is suppose to created the “chute” but never seems to work correctly. I’m now crammed into a two-foot gap.
Turning around like a dog chasing it’s tail trying to figure out a good position to shove this stick. Maneuvering my body so I’m not putting all my weight on the toe I broke last week getting off the trampoline. (For real, you couldn’t make this up.)
Here it comes, I’m getting mad so let’s yell at the imaginary clothing gods who are not blessing me in this department. EVER!
I do what I think is normal and start yelling down the chute.
“Am I the only person in this house that can tell when their clothes don’t hit the bottom?”
“Stupid thing.”
“Oh this is just great.”
“Man, I need to shower.”
“Presley, please get out of here.”
“I’m stuck.”
“Seriously, Jess lose the baby weight.”
“Wait no, gonna need this chub.”
“Did someone throw a cinder block down there???”
“SWEET MOTHER MARY…”
“Wonderful, now the pool stick is stuck.”
Maybe if I stick my leg down there and stand on this stupid stick it will break loose.
“I’m about to lose my religion.”
“Are you SERIOUSLY out of breath right now Jessica?”
I head down to the basement and grab the other pool stick that my kids needed SOOO BAD to play pool with that they never use. My husband made this contraption for me because the last time this happened I threw his level down the chute and he was less than thrilled.
In my hands is a pool stick with a unraveled wire hanger and electrical tape wrapped around the end. 
“He’s so resourceful.”
I start waving that pool stink around in there like I’m on a desert island needing to be rescued.
“I do need rescued from this breeding pile of laundry!”
“SERIOUSLY HOW MANY DAYS HAS THIS BEEN STUCK!”
“PAYTON wore that last week!”
I’m ducking at this point and waving that stick in there dancing around like I’m a reigning world fencing champion.
“HIIIIIIII-YA!”
“SURE. THE WET WASH RAG WOULD FALL ON MY HEAD.”
As I do this the noise sounds like one of those clapping monkeys with cymbals at the circus.
“My life is a circus.”
Finally! The clothes that I threw down come falling out.
I look down and my 3 loads of laundry have turned into 6.
I’m going to need more coffee.
#thestruggle

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