Dirty Laundry

Here it is, the one place I can take a minute to air my dirty laundry for the world to see. Literally. (Try to hold in that groan.) Yes, a word about laundry.

Sigh.

It is never ending. Do you understand that this means it will never end? Truly. Just when you think you have caught up - guess what, you are wearing clothes that are dirty and will need to be thrown into the empty hamper that you have - just minutes before - officially declared as a completed task.

Unless I decide to join a nudist colony (unlikely) or quit shopping forever (even more unlikely), there will always be more and more and more laundry for as long as I live. I wear clothes. I get clothes dirty. I need to clean the clothes. Fold. Put away. And then wear again, only to start over the cycle that...you guessed it...will never end.

So, then, why is it such a loathsome task? Why do I have such a hard time keeping up with it if I know that I, in fact, create the cycle myself...prolong it, procrastinate it, even pursue it? In fact, one of the most enjoyable parts of life (for a woman anyway, and correct me if I'm super wrong here) is shopping for clothes! Do we understand that getting new clothes only ensures increasing the amount of laundry that is to be done in our future?

I've tried to put myself on a schedule. Do the girls clothes on Monday, do our laundry on Thursdays. It helps. It ensures that the mountain of laundry doesn't reach Mount Everest status quite as quickly as it could otherwise. But, let's be honest...the schedule only goes so far. One crazy-Matilda-bath-time later, and theres 4 more towels that I didn't account for, along with the sheets that Daphne just spit-up on, and oh yeah- the cat just puked on the kitchen rug again...and voila! Another round of laundry off the schedule.

Or, I've finally finished sorting all the laundry and getting the cart ready and it's all ready to load...when I realize we are out of quarters and it will have to wait. That's right - did I mention we still use quarters for our laundry? Yep. We are apartment dwellers, so we have yet to experience the joy of in-home-washing-and-drying that I've heard is all the rage in modern appliance technology. Ugh. I mean, it's really not so bad. I still remember the days (not that long ago) when we had to load the car up with our laundry and take it to an actual laundromat - where you just sit and chill and try to make eye contact with that weirdo in the corner over there who has been slowly eating Doritos from the vending machine that looks like it's been around since the fifties. Yikes. Yes, we've come a long way since then, baby.

But still, to load up the cart, strap the baby on in the snuggly and hold Matilda's hand as we walk by the pool (I'm sure it is only a matter of time before all of us accidentally stumble into that pool with our laundry...oh, Lord help us) and make our way to our community laundry room...well, it is simply a lot of effort. Sometimes I will wait until Josh gets home from work to do the laundry simply because I can't even mentally handle the effort it takes to haul my girls and all our clothes (and detergent!) down to the laundry center back and forth (26 minutes to wash, 64 minutes to dry) and back and forth again. Sometimes I will bat my eyes at him, hand him some lovely baked good fresh from the oven and get him to do the laundry for me (heehee). But, even then...it still haunts me. He will lovingly/begrudgingly wash and dry the clothes (which is an immense relief to my schedule) but then there they are...sitting in the basket...needing to be folded and neatly put away.

That is just the worst. The thing is - it's not hard work. It's not difficult or exhausting or painful in any way. But it is not fun. It certainly doesn't help when a certain little 2 year old wants to "help" - only to unfold/destroy a perfectly stacked pile of clean shirts in the blink of an eye. (Hurricane Matilda can take down an entire tower of clean clothes in mere seconds - remarkable.) So, yes, that can be frustrating. And it is always annoying to not find matches to socks - no matter whose they are. (I don't know how I'm going to die someday - but I'm pretty sure it will involve baby socks as they seem to be the bane of my existence.) But, that basket of clothes, I swear, just stares at me, taunts me, rolls its eyes at me behind my back...until it is finally folded and put away neatly. It's like the Tell Tale Heart of housekeeping.

Yes, laundry is a necessary evil of domestic maintenance. So here I am, venting about it once and for all so I can get it out there - puke out all my complaints...and get over it. It must happen. I must do the laundry. You...must do the laundry (well, your laundry). It's there, waiting for us. Dirty socks. Ketchup stained bibs. Applesauce smeared onesies. Crayon marked leggings. Pitted out work shirts. Floured aprons. Sweaty undershirts.

Well, it all really just stinks.

But...we can do it! We must soldier on, detergent in hand, quarters in our pockets. We must wash, dry, fold, and put away the clothes....one freaking little mismatched baby sock at a time.

(This is where I high-five you). So, enough complaining. Here we go. And the next time you want to just burn your laundry basket and buy disposable clothing...well, don't. Air your dirty laundry for a day - get it out of your system, and then just go do it! Quickly. Before those jeans can stand up and walk away on their own. (Did that basket of clothes just smirk at me?)