Monday, September 30, 2013

laundry quandry




Today, Monday, is my laundry day. (Ugh)

Dirty laundry is the bane of my existence.

There are eight people in my house, and eight people make a lot of dirty laundry. Dirty laundry that needs to be washed on a regular basis, namely-weekly.

I've been campaigning for years that we should all move to a nudist colony 'cause then my life would be laundry free and so much easier, but my husband says, "No thanks." (party pooper)

So I carry on with my eternalaggravating, horrible, weekly laundry chore. I learned a while ago that I can not do anything on laundry day, BUT laundry.  I can't go shopping, I can't cook anything fancy, I can only do laundry or I will never get it all done in one day and it will stretch out for days on end like a case of particularly vicious stretch marks (or for example, this really long, run on sentence).

You may wonder why I don't have my children do their own laundry? One simple reason really, they don't have enough dirty clothes each to justify each of them running loads separately. Knowing my boys like I do, they would consider three pairs of underwear a load. And can you imagine how many loads would run every week if all six kids washed their clothes separately? (They do however, all take turns doing everyone's laundry all summer long when they are off school.)

This morning, right at 6am, I had everyone gather their dirty clothes and they sorted it into the appropriate baskets (whites, darks, mediums, towels). I was grabbing a load of darks when I noticed in one of the baskets what appeared to be a book.

Lest this confuses you, as it did me, let me clarify: I don't wash hardbound copies of Harry Potter. I wash shirts, pj's, jeans, underwear, socks, sports clothes of all kinds, and lots of other clothing type things, but I do NOT wash books.

I do however have children who, while cleaning their rooms, (mistakenly) think their dirty clothes baskets are some kind of magical catch-all for anything and everything. A soccer cleat with no partner? Drop it in the dirty clothes basket.  A Nerf gun? Drop it in the dirty clothes basket. Old homework papers? Dirty clothes basket. A Harry Potter book? Dirty clothes basket (obviously).




This my friends, is where I draw the line. The children at fault admitted to the misdeed.  One child admitted to placing the book in the basket (really?), the other child was at fault for sorting it into today's laundry piles.

And I am happy to report that my laundry loads will be lighter today. Not just one Harry Potter book lighter but all the offender's laundry lighter. They get to do their own! (Breaking my own rule.)

Parenthood. It ain't for sissies.


And for that matter, neither is laundry for eight.








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