Laundry Room [lunchtime]

[rilla-myrilla.livejournal.com]

For such a small person, Jims generated an enormous amount of laundry--spit up rags, dirty blankets, drool-covered bibs--and doing this particular chore was far from Rilla's favourite aspect of the week.

She'd darted down to the laundry room during Jims' nap with a basket brimming with dirty clothing and dumped it into the first available washing machine and retured a half hour later, only to discover that the top to the washer absolutely refused to open.

She tried yanking. She tried hitting it with her boot. She tried--being a nice Canadian girl who'd spent a year in Fandom--reasoning with the machine.

Nothing worked.

"Just. Give. Me. The. Clothes. Please," she grunted, yanking on the top of the machine.

Somehow this had to be That Boy's Fault. The one from the radio who had ruined people's clothing.

[OOC: Laundry strike ho!]