Why am I always posting about laundry? It is the
bane of my existence. Which is saying something, because if that's the worst problem you have....right? I have instituted a new rule, though: No blogging unless a load of laundry is going. I have to find ways to corral myself and my insidious tendency
to look the other way. I think the problem is that the washing devices can be seen from the kitchen and the mess must be kicked out of the way in order to enter or exit the house. This is not ideal! Whatever bonehead designed my house did not have an inkling of how infrequently I do laundry. Mr. Bonehead thought to himself, "Sure, you got one load in the washer, one in the dryer. Maybe a basket on the floor waiting to go in. Everything's neat and tidy. The end."
Bonehead. The pinnacle of my humiliation? A new neighbor comes over to meet us. That's riiigggggghhhhttt. Her 5-year-old bounds after Big Stuff to revel in the playroom and the "secret stairway." At the bottom of the secret stairway? Miles and miles of dirty
skivvies. It's so awful, I just can't think about it. Laundry is one of those things about stay-at-momhood that really tests me. It never ends, no one ever tells you what a great job you did on the laundry, no one cares that you even did the laundry (until they realize that you stopped doing it, like three weeks ago), you don't get to cross it off
a list of action items on your Palm Pilot, no one gives you a raise if you keep up with the laundry. It's just a useless and annoying thing to do with your life. Of course, I have to keep reminding myself that it could be so much worse. What about poor Ma in
Little House on the Prairie? Scrubbing those pinafores in the creek day in and day out, her knuckles bleeding and cuticles looking oh-so-ragged. OK, so they had like two pinafores, but still. That would really, really suck. Maybe I should
whittle our wardrobe down to two outfits per person. HAHAHAHA...Ah, I crack myself up.
Why am I always posting about laundry? It is the bane of my existence. Which is saying something, because if that's the worst problem you have....right? I have instituted a new rule, though: No blogging unless a load of laundry is going. I have to find ways to corral myself and my insidious tendency to look the other way. I think the problem is that the washing devices can be seen from the kitchen and the mess must be kicked out of the way in order to enter or exit the house. This is not ideal! Whatever bonehead designed my house did not have an inkling of how infrequently I do laundry. Mr. Bonehead thought to himself, "Sure, you got one load in the washer, one in the dryer. Maybe a basket on the floor waiting to go in. Everything's neat and tidy. The end." Bonehead. The pinnacle of my humiliation? A new neighbor comes over to meet us. That's riiigggggghhhhttt. Her 5-year-old bounds after Big Stuff to revel in the playroom and the "secret stairway." At the bottom of the secret stairway? Miles and miles of dirty skivvies. It's so awful, I just can't think about it. Laundry is one of those things about stay-at-momhood that really tests me. It never ends, no one ever tells you what a great job you did on the laundry, no one cares that you even did the laundry (until they realize that you stopped doing it, like three weeks ago), you don't get to cross it off
a list of action items on your Palm Pilot, no one gives you a raise if you keep up with the laundry. It's just a useless and annoying thing to do with your life. Of course, I have to keep reminding myself that it could be so much worse. What about poor Ma in Little House on the Prairie? Scrubbing those pinafores in the creek day in and day out, her knuckles bleeding and cuticles looking oh-so-ragged. OK, so they had like two pinafores, but still. That would really, really suck. Maybe I should whittle our wardrobe down to two outfits per person. HAHAHAHA...Ah, I crack myself up.
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