In recent weeks I’ve decided to do the adult thing and not let my laundry get out of control. I’m always the person that looks at the pile of clothes and wonders, “ How long can this last?”. The answer is when my boxers start disappearing and the only place they can be is in that growing daunting pile, mocking me from the hamper. Of course this does not stop me; I will do the “green” thing and recycle my clothes. I start furiously digging through the pile trying to find my diamond in the rough, the one pair of boxers that passes the test. I pick up a pair and sniff it. Why? What is that going to solve? Nothing good can come from this. Once the air around this article of clothing enters nostrils I can tell my body is reacting to it very negatively. “I can’t see! My eyebrows! Are they still here? I think some of went down my throat! I can taste it! I need a doctor! Why are my hands sticky!?”
Finally, after being granted sight, I can sort my mess and head down to the laundering hole, only to find that machines are taken. Or there’s an older gent folding his clothes, slowly and from the washer. And I’m a skinny young lad, and carrying all those clothes puts a strain on my back and arm muscles. Not to say that I’m weak (I prefer the term “tone”) but 4 weeks of laundry can bear quite the weight (literally and metaphorically). But eventually it’s your turn to do your 6 loads of laundry. There goes the day; I better call off work for this. “I’m sorry I would love to come into my cubicle today, but my underpants; they need me” I believe that’s a HR violation, but if they smelled what I smelled, they would give me employee of the month for not coming in.
The problem really comes in when you have fold and organize your clothes. There it sits, a lemon scented pile of clothes. It takes a good 2 hours to go through that many clothes and fold and put them away. And then it takes another 2 hours to find that one damn sock that’s missing; which is left behind in where the dirty pile of clothes were. I say as long you don’t smell it, ball it up with its mate and tell no one (#Ijusttoldeveryone).
Of course once the deed was done I send out a Facebook post, a tweet, emailed my mother. Only to have everyone say “ Nobody gives a damn, grow up”. I’m an adult dammit and I deserve a reward for doing my laundry!