...after a week of deep, deep house cleaning which precluded any laundry.
Whose pants these are I think I know,
With grass and blood they're stained though.
He plays outside while I am here,
watching the piles of laundry grow.
The stains are many, dark and deep,
but I have promises to keep,
and piles to go before I sleep,
and piles to go before I sleep.
(Apologies to Robert Frost's Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening)