Laundry

"Come on," Sam moaned, dragging a sack of laundry down the stairs of her and Freddie's home. "Why's this thing so heavy?"

"Hey, hey!" Carly said brightly, letting herself in. When she caught sight of best friend lugging a heavy sack down the stairs, her smile faltered. "Um, Sam? What's in that bag?"

"Laundry," Sam mumbled, finally succeeding in getting the sack down the steps.

"Oh thank God," Carly said, breathing in relief. "What are you doing with a sack of laundry, though?"

"I'm gonna wash some clothes," Sam replied, heading into the laundry room.

"You?" Carly frowned.

"Yes," Sam said, raising an eyebrow. "Why? Is that a problem?"

"No, no," Carly said quickly. "It's just, I thought Freddie did your guys' laundry."

"He used to," Sam corrected her. "But now I'm taking over."

"Why? Did you lose a bet?"

"No!" Sam said indignantly. "Jeesh, why is so wrong for me to be doing laundry?"

"Because you're you," Carly chuckled. "You hate housework. Have you ever done a load of laundry before in your life?"

"Could you stop being a downer?" Sam snapped.

"Sam, you're my best friend," Carly said firmly. "I know you better than anyone, and I know there has to be a dang good reason for you to be willingly doing laundry."

"Fine!" Sam conceded. "I-I'm doing it to shut Freddie's mom up!"

"Laundry's going to shut that woman up?" Carly scoffed. "How?"

"Well, lately she's been coming over, you know, being her usual obnoxious self," Sam explained, beginning to unload the sack of clothes. "And she keeps making all these comments. 'Why is my Freddikins unloading the dishwasher on his own?' 'Why is my poor son vacuuming while his wife sits around eating ham?' 'Why is my precious baby not being treated right by his wife?'"

"Oh, I-I can see how that can get to a person," Carly said. "But come on, Sam, you're a great wife for Freddie!"

"I know," Sam mumbled. "But, I just want her to stop making all these snide remarks about how pathetic I am, especially since I'm not allowed to hit her. And last week she came over and decided to the laundry on her own since Freddie was at work, and the whole time she kept rubbing it in my face!"

"Oh," Carly nodded. "So now you're doing your own laundry to show her up?"

"That's right," Sam said proudly, measuring out several cups of laundry detergent. "Besides, if she can do it, how hard can it be?"

"Um, Sam?" Carly frowned.

"What?"

"You put the dirty clothes in the dryer instead of the washer."

….

"Hey, baby?" Freddie called, entering his home a few moments later. "You home?"

"Y-Yeah!" Sam called back. "I'll be right there!"

"Word of advice," Freddie said, hanging up his jacket by the door. "Never, ever go fish food shopping with Gibby. He's way too particular about what his stupid goldfish eats. I don't know who's worse. Spencer, who has to be reminded to keep his gold fish in water if he's going to insist on walking it, or Gibby, who goes and orders a thirty gallon tank for one little-Sam?"

Sam came into the room, dripping wet with a few stray soap bubbles in her hair. "Hey, so, um, you-you had fun shopping with Gibby?"

"Baby, what happened?" Freddie asked, unable to hold back a laugh.

"Nothing," Sam said. "I-I fell asleep and I woke up like this."

"You smell like someone dumped an entire container of fabric softener on you," Freddie commented.

"That's my perfume," Sam snapped.

"And you have a dryer sheet stuck to your shoulder," Freddie continued. He smiled as he leaned down to kiss his wife. "Baby, you weren't-you weren't doing laundry, were you?"

"Why does everyone think that's so shocking?" Sam groaned.

"Wait, you were?" Freddie said. "Sam, that's great! I'm so happy you're starting to do laundry. I mean, not that I minded doing it before, but I think splitting the housework more between us will really strengthen our marriage."

"Oh don't go all Dr. Phyllis on me," Sam said, rolling her eyes. "I did it so your mom would stop bugging the living chiz out of me."

"Oh, well, um, I-I guess that works," Freddie said.

"Yeah, I-I just wanted her to stop thinking I was a terrible wife, making you do everything," Sam sighed.

"Hey, Sam, that's not true at all," Freddie said firmly. "You're the best wife there is, and I love you so much! And you do a lot around here. You're an amazing cook, you kill all the bugs for me, you do yard work…"

"Yeah, but you do way more," Sam mumbled. "And your mom always says-"

"Who cares what she says?"

Sam looked up at him. "Whoa. You-You've never said that before."

"Baby, you and I both know she's very overbearing," Freddie said. "And she says things that are way out of line sometimes. I'm sorry she made you feel like you weren't a good wife. But you are, you really are. Even if you made me kill my own disgusting, terrifying spider the other night…"

Sam smiled. "So you think I'm a good wife?"

"You're the best one around," Freddie said.

"Well, hang onto that thought," Sam said slowly. "Because I sort of turned all your clothes pink."