Doesn’t laundry suck?
Does anything express the monotony of being the stay at homer more than a giant pile of laundry waiting to be folded? I always feel like I suffer from depression when I do laundry. Wash. Dry. Fold. Repeat. Every. Day.
I’m not good at it, maybe that’s a contributing factor. Not being good at laundry… that alone is pretty pathetic. How on earth can a person not be good at putting clothes in a machine? The machine does all the work! It’s the settings! I fail at the settings! Do you think I enjoy wrecking my wife’s new outfit that apparently can’t be washed with warm water? I don’t. Do you think I enjoy the fact that women’s clothing is all made from different materials; materials that all require some kind of unique special attention. Fashion sucks.
My normal philosophy of laundry just doesn’t work in my life as a married father of two. Gone are the days when I can just buy something a size or two bigger than is right for me, just knowing that it will probably shrink in the wash to fit me good enough.
My solution/current attitude about laundry. When it comes to Gayle, I remain scared. I study every label like I’m going to be tested, and I wash in fear. I have ruined so many nice clothes. And the arguments that birth forth…not pleasant. I hear “just take a second…” more than I enjoy. But it doesn’t matter how good I follow the label, I will inevitably forget that I did laundry and there will be a wet, muggy, stinky load of laundry awaiting my world famous “second round.” I admittedly suck at laundry.
When it comes to the kids, I have no feelings for their clothes. Regular wash, regular dry. Fuck em. (The clothes, that is) Sorry about the language. I am just being honest. I could have said, “Whatevs!” but that doesn’t really express my feelings appropriately.
When it comes to my clothes, I have never loved an article of clothing enough to care if I ruined it. No, I take that back, there’s a hat or two that I miss. But shirts and pants? Honestly, if those comfortable MC Hammer pants were in any kind of style, I would wear them with a sweatshirt and a hat. Done. My wife feels nowhere close to the same way. But I really wish we could apply the “kid vegetable rule” to this: just let’s give it a try. Let’s try it and if we don’t like it we can try something else. She won’t budge.
Back to laundry. Folding? That is a layer of hell on earth. My clothes are easy, pants and shirts are fine. You fold them like a piece of paper and then cram them into the drawer. If they unfold going into the drawer, no problem. Sometimes I even roll shirts up to fit random spaces in my drawer. Whatever works! Socks…really? I’ll find the matches when it’s time to put them on. All socks in the drawer, it’s a free for all. Same with the underwear drawer. I truly don’t mind wrinkles in my underwear, so there’s NO POINT to folding them! Realizing now that it feels weird to refer to underwear in the plural form. Pair? Them? Maybe I’ve been wearing underwear wrong all these years? Do we wear two at the same time? Gonna have to think on this.
Gayle’s clothes are a different story. Half the time there’s an inner bra type thing that I can’t figure out whether it’s in or out or how it gets folded in. Then there’s those sweater/shirt type deals that you can’t hang up but they don’t really fold. I’m getting anxiety typing this right now! Women’s clothes are a pain in the ass in every way possible!
Well, crap, I wrote this post because I was procrastinating. I have to fold laundry now, for real. This random stream of conscious has been brought to you by Russell’s Laundry Depression. I can just see my mom reading this. “I raised you better than this!” She did. I blame community college and an “experimental phase” for my undoing. They call it laziness in certain circles. Those circles are filled with squares though, right? High five! Anyone? No one? Ok.
I probably owe you an apology for wasting your time. I had fun, though. You are nice.