My nemesis is laundry. We have a long standing epic battle going on, of which I am consistently the loser. The battle was once so intense, that my daughter got caught without a clean school uniform. (Don’t tell her though, I pulled something from the hamper and sprayed perfume on it so she wouldn’t notice…) I have worn mis-matched socks to work, my son has gone commando on more than one occasion, and my husband has spent 20 minutes searching the house for a specific sweatshirt while complaining that the laundry is never done.
I hate folding clothes. I don’t mind so much washing them, but folding and putting it all away? No thank you. And don’t even mention ironing to me. If it’s wrinkled, i just don’t wear it. I tried to teach my kids to fold their clothes, which almost worked for about 5 minutes. My 7 year old daughter learned quickly that it was a horrible chore, and has since refused to help. My 4 year old son still tries to help, but in all honestly the clothes would end up less wrinkled if we just left them in the basket. It’s gotten so bad, that my living room currently has three baskets of clean clothes, my daughter has had two baskets sitting in her bedroom for at least a few months (both filled with clean summer clothes that now need to get put away for the winter), and my bedroom has had a never ending pile of random clothing perched on the edge of a dresser for years. It is ridiculous.
I am embarrassed to admit this, but more than once I have gone out to buy new clothes instead of take the time to wash something for a special occasion.
I’m sure there are going to be some clean freaks reading this post, ready to throw up over my lack of care with my laundry, but I can’t help it. I didn’t like doing my own laundry in college, and now I’m responsible for doing the laundry of four people. FOUR people!!! That’s a shit ton of laundry, and quite frankly I have better things to do with my life.
Like sit here in my slippers, on the couch, next to three baskets of clean un-folded laundry, drinking a cup of tea.