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Laundry day is losing its sparkle

So, this is what happened the other day in our newly betrothed home: Mike walked into the bedroom, expecting to pack for a weekend wedding. Not out of town, not something that he would need more than a few pairs of underwear for (even, though I’ll say now, I have thrown away underwear with the ass-ripped holes in them), and not even something he’d need several changes of clothes for. Still yet, I could easily have brought him something.

I do laundry every other week. I run full loads, separated by colors. In the off weeks, I wash linens. It saves water. It also saves my sanity. And when I do that laundry, it’s a complete 48-hour-plus activity. Between the separating, the washing, the unloading and sorting what can go into the dryer, the fluffing of the hang-to-dry clothes, the folding and the hanging back up, it’s not something I want to commit to more than every other week.

But, when Mike realizes his FAVORITE pair of shorts is STILL IN THE LAUNDRY basket, he asks, “do I need to start doing my own laundry?”

I cannot even begin to describe my rage.

Seriously? I wash clothes. I fold clothes. I clean rooms. I vacuum. I dust. I even make the coffee stronger than any normal person should. But at the end of the day, I’ve failed due to the fact that my 48-hour-plus devotion to clothes washing is actually NOT enough. But then I actually have to laugh, because as much as Mike touts his frequent laundry washing and disdain for separating or worrying about hang-to-dry, he is getting to the point where he has more cycle stipulations than I do. Don’t dry this one, try not to shrink this, there’s a stain on this, this needs to be dry cleaned… or best yet, can you wash this the same as the dry cleaners? Bah!

This brings interesting points into my daily thoughts… What does Mike think I am doing everyday? I can tell you right now that he thinks I sit at home watching Keeping Up With the Kardashians and eating whatever leftover dessert Blake has left in our freezer, in my pajamas, while I shop online. Now, I won’t deny doing any to all of these things, but as the aforementioned list concludes, I’m a busy woman/housewife. How about a little credit for being able to sloth around on a Sunday WHILE getting all of those chores done? Athankyou.

We don’t have kids yet. We both have an ungodly amount of clothes. Do I have to devote half my life to laundry already? I’m tempted to take those “favorite shorts” out of the laundry basket and just fold them back up in his drawer. Or, maybe this is a sign that he needs another pair of shorts? Justification to shop?


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