My life is filled with lots of things. Nagging, whining, arguing, complaining, disappointment and laundry. Lots and lots of dirty laundry. Doing the laundry itself, I don't mind too much. I mean it's not as though I have to trek down to a mountain stream with homemade lye soap and spend the whole afternoon beating it on a rock while contracting pneumonia or anything. But, it's all the things surrounding getting clothes into the washing machine and out of the dryer that are a huge pain in the ass.
The only place you won't find clothes in my house is the hamper.
I could actually start hiding Christmas presents in the kids' hamper. Or my chocolate stash. It is probably the safest and the cleanest place in my entire house. Even though I nag my kids incessantly about picking up their clothes to put them in there. And I know I shouldn't pick up their clothes for them and wash them. I know I should simply step over their disgusting smelly socks and make them responsible for doing their own laundry. Oh, trust me, I have tried tough love! But, I just can't do it. For the sake of my sanity and the environment, I must run, at least, a full load of laundry every day. But, I refuse to be a slave to my kids, which is why I draw the line at checking for personal items in pants pockets.
Which is why I have washed wallets, pens, pencils, paperclips, notes, wrappers (sometimes empty, sometimes not) and money. It's like I've started my own money laundering business. I've washed dollar bills, sometimes even quarters and dimes, but mostly pennies. Where does it come from? I mean who even uses cash anymore? Do they still accept it at stores? Especially pennies. Really, I don't think you can even use the phrase penny for your thoughts anymore. Cause with inflation I think it's at least a quarter, but even more realistically, probably a dollar. Plus, are you sure you really want to know what someone else is thinking? In these divisive times? Probably not. I know I'd pay some people at least $10 to keep their thoughts to themselves.
But, I digress. Once I've pocketed the money, then I fold the laundry. Carefully trying to determine whose socks are whose and then stacking each kid's clothes in neat piles on the kitchen table for them to take up to their room and put it away. With the expectation that it will be done in time for the table to be set for dinner. Now, we do this every day and it's pretty damn straightforward. How hard can it be? And yet, I still have to nag them to move their clothes so I can serve them a dinner they'll hate and complain about. With the long laundry list of annoying things my kids do (or don't, rather), I should have earned a doctorate in nagging at this point. And when they do finally take their clothes upstairs, one of them consistently drops them on the dog fur laden carpet on the floor in his bedroom.
Which is why I have washed wallets, pens, pencils, paperclips, notes, wrappers (sometimes empty, sometimes not) and money. It's like I've started my own money laundering business. I've washed dollar bills, sometimes even quarters and dimes, but mostly pennies. Where does it come from? I mean who even uses cash anymore? Do they still accept it at stores? Especially pennies. Really, I don't think you can even use the phrase penny for your thoughts anymore. Cause with inflation I think it's at least a quarter, but even more realistically, probably a dollar. Plus, are you sure you really want to know what someone else is thinking? In these divisive times? Probably not. I know I'd pay some people at least $10 to keep their thoughts to themselves.
But, I digress. Once I've pocketed the money, then I fold the laundry. Carefully trying to determine whose socks are whose and then stacking each kid's clothes in neat piles on the kitchen table for them to take up to their room and put it away. With the expectation that it will be done in time for the table to be set for dinner. Now, we do this every day and it's pretty damn straightforward. How hard can it be? And yet, I still have to nag them to move their clothes so I can serve them a dinner they'll hate and complain about. With the long laundry list of annoying things my kids do (or don't, rather), I should have earned a doctorate in nagging at this point. And when they do finally take their clothes upstairs, one of them consistently drops them on the dog fur laden carpet on the floor in his bedroom.
I can't wait until they all leave home
and bring their laundry home to mom when they visit.
The day they appreciate me.
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