Posted by: Sharon | March 6, 2010

Done with laundry

So. Done.

And not like (proud voice), “I finished all my laundry today, folded all the clothes, then still had time to sit down, relax and have a cold glass of iced tea this afternoon with a selection of my favorite magazines.”

More like (peeved, slightly defeated voice), “I just finished another 8 loads of laundry and am soooooo OVER IT. ”

I totally have a new appreciation for my mom (are you seeing a running theme here?) and her seemingly never ending quest to wash all our clothes in the days I still lived at home. And to top that off for her, she did the clothesline line dry aka no machine dryer, which really, is the best thing about doing laundry, if one can even say something as ludicrous that.

But seriously, folks. Shame on me, I can probably count the number of loads of laundry I did while still living in my mom’s house, probably on two hands (and maybe a few toes). In college, I got by on maaaaybe laundry once a month? Yes, I did have that much underwear, what’s it to ya? And Febreeze had just come out onto the market. Combine that with the no-smoking-in-restaurants-and-bars law they passed in Boston (meaning my clothes didn’t reek of cigarette smoke after going out anymore, thus an overnight air out would do), and hey, my laundry schedule was looking pretty sa-weet.

Fast forward to living with Ricardo and the laundry pile doubled, but we were able to get by with laundry every two to three weeks. And by “we”, ha ha, of course I mean “me”, doing the laundry for us to “get by”, that is. Factor in that I only liked to use the laundromat down the street (more like over the river and through the woods) instead of the scary washers in our building basement AND the fact that we had no car, thus I would have to CARRY the massive bag(s) of laundry MYSELF (98% of the time), really I tried to be as efficient as possible and balance the amount of hours I spent in the laundromat with the number of trips I really wanted to make all the way down the street, across the main road, past the community gardens, in the snow/rain/insert adverse weather condition here etc etc, you get the picture.

(As a side note, really guys, those of you who live with wonderful partners like me, have it MADE. The fact that someone washes your clothes and makes it possible for you to magically open your dresser drawers to coveniently find clean underwear, socks, shirts, you name it, is NOT a luxury that your significant other is experiencing. But I digress…)

God bless the day we bought our condo and negotiated to keep the fancy washer dryer set to come with the place! Can I just tell you how a set of boxy machinery can make a grown woman so incredibly happy? It’s almost ridiculous. But, I know I am certainly not alone in this feeling.

Let’s do a bit more math now. Add five years, one dog and one baby. Still following me? Now multiply the vomit, poop, spilled liquids, mashed food and other unidenifiable goo by three. Take that total, carry the two (laundry baskets, that is, up and down the spiral staircase four times), divide by the time in the day you actually have to split equally between cooking breakfast, lunch, dinner and cupcakes for the baby shower you’re attending the next day, subtract the one load of miscellaneous items like the bathroom rug and dog bed cover, because why not treat yourself to that fun time another day?… Hmmm. Take that total and solve for X, where X represents the fine line between where you lost it five minutes ago, and the 10 second inhale-exhale breather you took to pull it the F-together… And that equals?

One exhausted mama. Who is over it. Done. So done.

Until next week. Or the next pile of dirty clothes. Whichever comes first.


  1. I don’t know the full extend of your laundry pain, but I too, was made the happiest woman when I bought my OWN washer/dryer. Hell, I pat them, and maybe once or twice have hugged them when I am doing laundry – in my own place, just because they make my life so much better…whatever, that’s totally normal.

  2. It is truly shameful, but I have been forced to drop my laundry off at the laundromat conveniently located on our block. I rather help sustain my local laundromat then have to get change, get detergent, wait around 30 minutes for the wash, then transfer all of the crap to the dryer and wait another 15 minutes, fold the crap, etc. Fritz was not into other people touching “his things” before, but after one try he is now hooked (I knew I would convert him). What would be even better though? Yes, you guessed it– OUR OWN washer and dryer. Enjoy it Sharon, you deserve it!

  3. washer dryer in your own home is the best! I never have quarters anyway. i think i would get the heebie jeebies like fritz about other people touching my underwear. but hey, I think i’d get over it too!

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