Laundry-a Tormented Love Story

Laundry.  What more needs to be said?  What more can you say about it?

Laundry, sometimes I feel like you are my only friend.  You are ALWAYS there for me.  Like love, you grow and grow and grow….  You come in so many colors and sizes.  Sometimes you are the only thing that is on my mind.

I know your scent.  I feel your omnipresence.  Laundry, you have no idea how much you impact my life.

I have always done the laundry at our house.  Even before I was laid off, I handled 99% of laundry related matters.  No disrespect to my wife; but if I didn’t do it–I don’t know if or when it may get done.  It is my cross to bear.

I believe that my family and I could be millionaires if we were paid by our laundry production.  I know every day that I come down the stairs to our basement, a pile of dirty clothes will greet me.  And each time you greet me, I find myself with questions.  Theses questions are unanswered, and perhaps are unanswerable.

How can three diminutive people whose combined weight is under 200 pounds produce well  over 200 lbs. of laundry each week?

Why does my 5 year-old seemingly wear 25 plus pairs of underpants each week?

Does this same 5 year-old wear but one sock?  I ask this, because as God is my witness, he does not have one matching pair of socks.

Why is it always only one of my wife’s brand new light color shirts that finds it way into the dark, dark red load?

And why is she so goddamned mad when it turns the prettiest shade of tie dyed pink?  Truthfully, I am a psychedelic artist in my opinion.  I could have a very lucrative career selling my art to trust fund hippie college kids at Phish shows.

And what the hell do these kids eat?  I find more skid marks than at the starting line of the local drag strip.

After a successful round of laundry I am rewarded with what? An ice-cold beer?  A stuffed pizza?  A roll in the hay?  No, it is none of these.  My reward is the bane of my existence….fucking FOLDING these clothes,  clothes that are not even mine!!!   Folding laundry fucking blows.  There is no good way to do it.  If  I avoid the folding, everything gets wrinkled and I will be left  to take crap from an 8 year-old over the shape of his favorite baseball jersey!  And God forbid if everyone finds the clothes they need in the morning…  I cannot win.  I can only hope to survive.

Like the ancient Chinese proverb says, Calgon take me away.

Domestic Deity unfortunately requires at least some laundry.  Trust me, you will never get away from this one scott free.  I guess you can chalk laundry up into the “what doesn’t kill us will make us stronger” category…

Laundry, you complete me.  I will see you again tomorrow.    xoxo –MH:DG


5 Responses to “Laundry-a Tormented Love Story”

  1. Amy Wolff Says:

    You are brilliant! thanks for the laugh and the inspiration

  2. The Father of Five Says:

    I’m not even a SAHD – and I spent my day today doing laundry! (The last load is in the drying as I type this)… And I too got to FOLD!

    My “reward” for folding is that I do it in front of the TV (something I get to endulge myself with VERY little)… Sometimes it’s a Free On-Demand Movie, sometimes it’s stupid reality TV, or (like today) it was a $1.00 Redbox rental (Hangover, the movie).

    Great blog! I’ll be checking it out!!

    • MH:DG Says:

      I am sorry you had to fold…thanks a lot for your comment. I post about every other day…check it out. I enjoyed your blog as well…I am one of five children myself. You must be a saint! Have a great one, and be sure you watch the credits of “The Hangover”…it’s the best part of the film..

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