Dirty Laundry

Of all the household chores there are to do, don't you think laundry is the absolute worst?  I hate it.  I want to kill laundry . . . and here's something that makes it even more intolerable.

You can put it off for a really long time.  I mean hampers are generally pretty deep and most of us have more than one and the items you put in there can be seriously compacted to fit so much stuff you don't even realize what you have until you finally begin taking it out.  Then, its like it never freakin' ends.  You can't even believe how much laundry you have and now you are stuck for the next 5 hours washing, drying, folding, wanting to die.

Oh and of course you always get a nice white sock accidentally mixed in with your darkest jeans so that now one stupid sock is sort of gray and you have to toss the pair.  Then there's another pair that invariably ends up with one missing.  That's right . . . every single piece of clothing in your entire house is in front of you, folded and ready to be put away and yet, somehow, one freakin' sock that wasn't missing when you started this nightmare - is now gone. I mean how is that possible?  Where the frigaroni hell could it be?

Ya, and I'm not done.  How about when a bra strap or the thongy part of your not-cheap thongs gets wrapped around that center tube-like-thing of the washer and totally stretched out and deformed as it spins wildly.  Oh and don't even get me started on how if the clothes are dispersed unevenly the whole GD thing shakes like its going to explode . . . and all of this is happening in the freakin' basement too, the furthest point in the house from where the laundry originates.

There was only time when this was a sort of good thing, laundry in the basement.  That was about a month ago when I started doing laundry not realizing that the hose that drains the laundry into our utility sink had been taken out of the sink when we were cleaning and painting the cement floor to get ready to sell the house.  That's right, I didn't know . . . and I started the washer.  About 10 minutes later, when it was time for it to drain, I was upstairs in the kitchen and thought: "Huh, the water sounds a little weird.  I wonder . . . Oh. My. Effin. God!"

I raced downstairs and the hose was draining all over the floor. I grabbed it, but there was no way not to aim it at myself, and became drenched, head to toe.  Panicking, I placed it in the sink but didn't secure it enough so it popped out and sprayed all over me again.  Screaming for my husband, I finally got it positioned in the sink but not before I was completely soaked and most of it had emptied onto the floor.  Not once did it occur to me to turn off the GD washing machine.

I totally, completely despise you laundry.

The only items I don't really mind laundering are bedding and towels.  They don't have all sorts of annoying instructions on the tags with little symbols (that you don't even know the meaning of) for what you can and can't do.  Folding them isn't rocket science, except for those bastardly fitted sheets that I just pretty much bunch into a ball, then flatten . . . easy.  Its OK if they shrink, unlike my husband's tee-shirts turned half-shirts.  They look so so nice folded and put away that it can almost make you forget the horrors of the laundry room.  Almost.

So, in summary, I really can't be bothered with laundry, but still found myself, JUST TODAY, drawn to these two trendy accessories.  Yes, despite my complete hate-affair with dirty clothes, items like this seem to make it a little more tolerable.  If only they could stay empty, but alas . . . one stupid sock and a stretched out bra are definitely waiting for me.