Laundry, the worst punishment in the world
In particular – my family’s laundry.
We are a family of five, but some days I feel there must be 55 of us living in this house, given the clothes I am constantly washing, folding and putting away.
It seems that it never ends and it goes something like this:
Tell my kids to clean their rooms. Tell my kids to clean their rooms. Tell my kids to clean their rooms. Scream as loudly as I can. (Dog hides. Kids scramble.) There is now the perception that rooms are being cleaned. In reality, all three are stuffing clothes in drawers, under beds and those pieces of apparel which can not be stuffed are put in the dirty clothes hamper. Ask the children to bring me their dirty clothes. Ask the children to bring me their dirty clothes. Scream as loudly as I can. (Dog pees on the carpet. Kids hide.) Advise my husband how much I despise his dog! Husband coddles his shaking dog and asks children to bring down their dirty clothes. Children simply do as they are asked. My blood pressure goes to stroke level as I begin pulling clothes out of the hamper that I know for a fact have not been worn this week, this month or even this year! Advise husband that I refuse to be “the maid in this house, find your kids and punish them!” Husband disappears into his office with the dog, who by now is a nervous wreck! Kids go to the movies with their friends. Clothes are washed and dried in my fancy washer and dryer. (The ones I bought because it they had all those cool options – but three years later – I have only used two of them – wash and dry.) Pull out all the clothes from the dryer…load after load…and lay them on my bed. Saturday night…too tired to fold…move them to my chair and ottoman and watch my shows. Notice that none of the “Housewives of Beverly Hills” seem to do laundry – ever! God says Sunday is a day of rest, and I’m not one to mess with the Big Guy. Monday. School, work, after-school activities, homework, dinner, clean up, fall asleep on the recliner while trying to watch my other shows. Tuesday – Friday. More of the same. But the pile has miraculously decreased as the children pace back and forth all week to the chair looking for uniforms, socks and pajamas. Saturday morning, advise everyone that “someone better help me put up all these clothes that have sat here all week!” Children and husband mutter something about wishing they lived in another kingdom. Go upstairs to put up children’s clothes and see the condition of their rooms. Tell my children to clean their rooms. Tell my children to clean their rooms. Tell my children to clean their rooms. Dog knows what’s coming. He runs for cover.