I Am Never Buying Chocolate Chips Again

I was kicking ass in the get stuff done vein. I started the load of laundry that’s been accumulating in the washer and laundry room basket since the girls went back to their dad’s. I folded the load that was in the dryer. I made two batches of brownies for TW’s mom to take to the Senior Center. I got most of the trash cans emptied and the bins to the road. I straightened up the family room in preparation for the uverse dude’s visit. I cleaned the old leftovers out of the fridge and ran a load of dishes through the dishwasher. I even got the dishwasher unloaded and the few dirty dishes in the sink added to the dishwasher.

I thought I’d be extra super woman and do a tiny load of laundry and get all of TW’s underwear clean (I know, probably too much info but… hospitals cause her to want a lot of fresh underwear… just sayin’.)

So, I started tossing the wet laundry from the washer into the dryer… I noticed something “dropped” out of the wet laundry. One something dropped to the floor, another to the bottom of the dryer. I glanced back, something small and brown. I figured it was on old dog treat that someone had leftover in her pocket from treat training. I reached for the thing in the dryer just as Skeeter reached for the thing on the floor.

Soft, smooshy, chocolate.

Chocolate chips.

I peeked back into the washer and what did I see — dozens of chocolate chips sprinkled in with the “clean” laundry.

Dammit.

I pulled each piece of laundry out of the dryer, shaking every piece. Chocolate chips rained down onto the floor. I pulled each piece of laundry out of the washer. Still raining chocolate chips. At the bottom of the washer, a good half cup of chocolate chips.

I cleaned them out, cursing a certain child who I was SURE was responsible since most of the laundry I’d done was kid laundry, TW’s mom’s laundry and dirty towels with just a couple of TW’s stuff tossed in to fill out errr over-fill the load.

I added a little water to the washer then pushed it to the spin cycle. Each time I opened the lid, more chocolate chips were on the bottom and sides of the washer.

While the chocolate chips were spinning around, I texted the youngest child who has a strong affinity for chocolate chips.

Her response was “why in the hell would I have chocolate chips in my pocket?”

So I suggested she might have cleaned up spilled chocolate chips with a towel and then dumped the towel (chips and all) into the washer.

She insists she didn’t do it and pointed a finger at her sister.

So I texted her sister and asked her if she’d had a chocolate chip accident. She insisted she had not touched a chocolate chip in forever. I asked her if she was sure she hadn’t spilled chocolate chips and cleaned them with a towel? She insisted, again, she had not. I asked once more, “Are you sure you didn’t make a chocolate croissant?” Her response, well, I do have limits about what I’ll share about my kids so I’ll just keep that a secret. Basically, no. She insists it was not her.

During this texting/spinning session, TW’s mom wandered in and I explained what had happened. She had her suspicions about who might have done it and in the end she said, “All I know is it wasn’t me.”

So. It wasn’t TW’s mom. It wasn’t Elly. It wasn’t RJ. It wasn’t me, lord knows.

Did Skeeter do it? Or, was it someone else?

The world may never know.

I just know that I’m never buying another bag of chocolate chips because that was a pain in the ass and I don’t ever want to have to clean chocolate chips out of the washer and dryer again.