When the laundry is done, I feel all is right in my domestic world. When the laundry is done, I feel like I can breathe. When the laundry is done, I am proud that I have conquered such a monumental task. When the laundry is done, I feel as if I can do anything!
And then it happens.
It happens every time. As I happily stuff the dryer with what I think is the very last load of laundry, singing while I clean out the lint trap, closing that dryer door with a spring in my step and a smug smirk on my face, feeling like I just climbed Mt. Everest, that happy feeling I had just a mere 23 seconds ago is gone.
Like a Pavlovs’ dog, after I close that dryer door the realization hits me: I have to fold and put away all these fricking clothes. The feelings of anger, angst and being overwhelmed with life invade me like ants on a sticky ice pop stuck to the concrete on a hot summer day – all because of the laundry.
Because … the laundry is NEVER done.
The laundry never stops, just like Newman and the mail “it just keeps coming and coming, there is never a let up, it’s relentless”.
When I think I am done, more laundry comes. More socks. More dirty boy underwear. More towels. More sheets. More unbelievable disgusting soaking wet gym clothes from my husband.
It doesn’t matter if you’re a table of one or fifty-one, the laundry continues for everyone; the only difference is the reprieve you get between loads – it could be a day or two weeks. You can bet your ass, they’ll always be laundry!Just a week ago I was doing laundry three times a day because I only had four pairs of acceptable underwear to don. Yes, four pairs. Sure, I had my ‘period panties’ but those don’t count, neither did the maternity underwear I had stored in my drawer for eight years. You read that right, underwear sat in the undie drawer for eight years. I only wore them when I was completely and utterly desperate. Like twice a year desperate when I was too lazy to actually do the laundry for ONE day.
Silly me to think that buying $84 worth of new underwear would help my never-ending laundry situation, how naïve. As much as I love that my lady bits are secure and comfortable I am still doing laundry twice a day.
Colors. Whites. Dryer Sheets. Spray & Wash. Bleach. Fold put away. Fold put away. Fold let the laundry sit in the basket for a week, or maybe two. Don’t you dare judge me.
Load after load after load. Rinse and repeat.
The laundry never ends. When is it EVER done?
So what does one do? Well, I have a few ideas:
- Embrace the suck cause summer is coming, I mean the towels alone can make anyone go postal.
- Throw money at the problem. Get your laundry done by someone else. I mean, have you’ve ever done this? A good service can fold your undies the size of a quarter (no joke!), it’s a beautiful thing!
- Get your significant other to do it. Perfect solution, mine does pitch in a lot, however, with a fireman’s schedule, the laundry can’t stop, we will drown in laundry if I let it go for 48 hours.
- Teach your children or dog how-to do the laundry.
The last option is my only option. My sons have been folding and putting away the laundry for well over six months; two weeks ago I taught the 13 year old how to actually do a load of laundry. SCORE!
Now, I am not that foolish to think that this will give me full clemency from doing the laundry, but it will give me somewhat of a break, teach my kids that there are no free rides in life, and I have achieved something great – I gave myself a gift that will keep on giving (hopefully this gift will be bestowed on their significant others as well) the gift that they and they alone can and will wash their own disgusting underwear and socks.
Now beer me!