The Dark Side Of The Washing Machine

I am trying to convince myself that I am NOT the live-in maid to my four kids. Life cannot always be perfect, with cute, clean, hair-brushed kids and an immaculate home with fresh BReaD coming out of the oven and cooling on the hearth.

There are times around here when I can't keep up with the house and the laundry.
“AMEN, SISTA!” (Sorry, that was my conscience, screaming)

No one mentioned to me that when you say your 'I do's', you are handed a dustpan, a feather duster and a pretty ring, declaring you have now officially signed up to clean your man's house for the rest of his life until YoU die.

Laundry is my nemesis. I need to join a laundry support group. “Yes, my name is Camryn and I have a problem. I am an addict of ignoring my laundry every single day for the last ten years.”

I’m sure I’d be welcomed with open arms, and gifted with a year’s supply of laundry soap.

I can wash and dump the clean clothes into a laundry basket- that’s not hard (as it grows to the roof line.) Folding the ‘roof-line’ pile is the intimidating part. What is it about folding laundry and putting it away? This is where that support group would come in handy.

Councilor: “Honey, you just fold the towel and walk it down the hall. I’m confident you can do it!”

Me: “I don’t know,” I’d whimper, biting my nails. “It’s just TOO hard!!” (I’m sobbing like Cuzco at this point)

Councilor: “Give it a try…you might actually end up with an empty laundry basket.”

Me: “Really? An empty laundry basket?”

Councilor: “Maybe more than one.”

I’m super hopeful at this point. I’m daydreaming about the likelihood of THAT ever happening…(Somewhere miles away, I can hear my husband seconding that thought.)

My husband never says anything directly…though he has his cute remarks. For example:

“Honey, have you seen my red polo?” he’ll ask, skimming through his closet and going through his dresser. Then he’ll abruptly stop. “Oh, wait. I forgot to check my ‘other’ dresser.” He laughs. “Silly me. Why didn’t I look there first?”
Okay- I get it.

“I LOVE my other dresser,” he says, sifting through the mountain of laundry.
I REALLY do get it.

“I LoVe the organization and how you can find ANYTHING you want as long as you dig deeply enough and swim through every basket. You’re bound to find what you need. What closet can do that?”
I hope that laundry eats you.

“Who knows, maybe I’ll find my old running jersey in here, or my red shirt…I’ve found a bunch of other things I didn’t remember I had…”
The laundry hamper isn’t a magic lamp…if that were true, I’d wish for the horrible laundry to fold itself.

“Hey- can I sell our bedroom dresser on Ebay?”
By this time I’m trying to administer the ‘evil glare’ (I’ve mastered the glare, it’s the ‘evil eye’ that is still a work in progress… Can you imagine if I tried the ‘evil eye’ on him? In a Richard Simmon’s girlish scream he would call 911, hold me down, and apply duck tape to my eyes as he screams into the receiver that his wife’s face is broken)

Alright- back to the laundry issue...

Then my husband had another thought. “Why don’t we put the laundry baskets in our room and get rid of the dresser?” He’s trying to convince me. “Think of all the space we’ll save! No one would have dressers in this house!”

Yeah…he is convincing…there is something appealing about taking clean clothes and dumping them into a laundry basket and carrying it to the rooms and calling my work done…as the clothes rot for months…
I can deal with that…

He sees the look on my face and that I am actually considering it and then his humor fades and he clears his throat, getting all serious, truly frightened that I’m going to list his dresser on ebay the moment he leaves the house.

“I’ll pick up a movie tonight and we’ll fold clothes,” he offers.
“Sure,” I say.
“BeCaUsE,” he adds, “nothing sounds MORE fun, and no date compares to folding clothes for 3 continuous hours on a Friday night- with YOU.”
Is that sarcasm…?

“We can exchange our socks and say ‘I love you’s’ over a mountain of underwear.”
What a romantic…oh, I blush at his words! Socks, underwear…I can’t wait till we’re eighty. I’m hoping he’ll mark our fiftieth with a new washing machine…that comes with a portal to another dimension where I can frolic through the fields and dance through the daisy’s and smell like bounce sheets as the laundry takes care of itself.

Alright- so my laundry room is a little ‘over-run’ by clothes…but to solve that, I just need to add an extension to the end of the room…no biggie…I’m a 'do-it-yourself' kind of girl. (actually, my projects come out more like ‘you-really-shouldn’t-have-done-that’. Ask anyone who has ever seen me sew…)

Oh well. I ignore the sheer height and size of my bulging laundry baskets and heap MORE clean clothes to the pile…

Hey if I’ve got a date to fold clothes with my hubby, I better make his time worthwhile.

The clothes on the bottom of the pile are going to be so smooshed, they’re going to be wrinkled beyond repair, beyond what an iron can iron out- in which case would result in washing it again.
Sigh.

That should be enough motivation to fold right?
N-O-P-E
I add more to the heap. I can’t disappoint the highlights of my date tonight.
I better wash more underwear…

*Just a reminder. Friday is the last day to submit your Halloween Costume Contest pictures!