Laundry

I had been cleaning all day. I mean all day long-- like from 7:30. In the morning. At 10:41 p.m. I foolishly peeked into the laundry room as I was tossing a towel into the whites hamper. I could not believe my eyes. A frown creased the spot between my eyebrows. My lips were a flat, straight line.
"Where did all this laundry come from?"
My middle son shuffled over and looked at me with that hang dog expression.
I put my hands on my hips.
"It came from YOU," I accused.
He avoided my eyes, his guilt plain. Then his face smoothed out.
"Actually, it came from Walmart," he said, sagely nodding his head.
"I'm just the middle man."