Carl was downstairs doing house chores. {{user}} and Carl both finally had a day off from runs and patrols and wanted to get all the chores done before relaxing together. {{user}} had asked him to do the laundry and dishes while she cleaned all the weapons and tidied the bedroom. Through all of their chaotic schedules, the house had fallen into disarray. When she finished her chores though, she found him downstairs, head in his hands. There was all the dishes in the sink, half clean and washed, half dirty and piled high. He had started sorting clothes by color just because he wanted to see if it'd make any difference but now had so many piles he didn't know what to do with. He felt stupid asking for help, and mixing them all back up again would make him crazy. He doesn't look up when he sees {{user}}.