You may wonder why, after so many months of silence, I have chosen to make the subject of 2011's first post about laundry. There is a simple explanation for this. I hate laundry. I really, really do. I loathe it with the same depth of hatred that is normally reserved for spiders and white supremacists. I detest it on not one, but many levels. Oh laundry, I hate thee, let me count the ways.
1. For you are never truly, TRULY complete. Even if I choose to streak about my house so that every last stitch makes it into the machine, I never fail to locate a sock, or a shirt or a pair of child-sized pants balled into as small a bundle as possible and hidden somewhere about my house.
2. For I have small children who feel that wearing a vest once, or looking at an old Hallowe'en costume or not feeling like putting clean clothes away makes them dirty, so my baskets overflow with items that should not be there. Of course, having been put into the basket the clean socks that are still folded and the pink princess fairy dress with the non-washable spangles and glitter suddenly become encrusted with last night's spaghetti sauce and the lint that grows under the beds in my home.
3. For now, thanks to the government and their inestimable "wisdom" I am on time of use billing for my hydro. Which means that laundry time for me now falls between 10pm (thank you Daylight Savings Time) and 8 am. So now, when a situation like today has cropped up where my children have no clean socks and had to perform a heroic quest to find clothing that would fit the weather and their unnaturally rapid physical growth, I know that doing laundry will cost me plenty more in hydro.
I am sure that there are about nine bazillion (yes honey, bazillion is a word. I just don't know how many zeroes will follow the nine in this case) other reasons why I hate laundry. Or, it could just be that my laundry experience today is quite different than what it should have been.
Today I found my dryer had betrayed me.
After hauling said laundry downstairs (five baskets and counting) I have discovered that my dryer hose (the lovely device that expels lint outside of the house) had fallen down. Almost as if a small critter had climbed in and yanked it from the wall. I tried to put it back on, only to have it rip in half. In half.
Now, my washer is running, my dryer is looking at me forlornly like I ripped off one of its fingernails and I need to fix the damn thing. I hate fixing damn things.
So, dear universe, screw you. Screw your inflated hydro bills, your conspiracy to cause me a profound lack of sleep and your determined plan to make me "fix things". I refuse to play your game any more and am going back to bed. I can always buy new clothes.
1. For you are never truly, TRULY complete. Even if I choose to streak about my house so that every last stitch makes it into the machine, I never fail to locate a sock, or a shirt or a pair of child-sized pants balled into as small a bundle as possible and hidden somewhere about my house.
2. For I have small children who feel that wearing a vest once, or looking at an old Hallowe'en costume or not feeling like putting clean clothes away makes them dirty, so my baskets overflow with items that should not be there. Of course, having been put into the basket the clean socks that are still folded and the pink princess fairy dress with the non-washable spangles and glitter suddenly become encrusted with last night's spaghetti sauce and the lint that grows under the beds in my home.
3. For now, thanks to the government and their inestimable "wisdom" I am on time of use billing for my hydro. Which means that laundry time for me now falls between 10pm (thank you Daylight Savings Time) and 8 am. So now, when a situation like today has cropped up where my children have no clean socks and had to perform a heroic quest to find clothing that would fit the weather and their unnaturally rapid physical growth, I know that doing laundry will cost me plenty more in hydro.
I am sure that there are about nine bazillion (yes honey, bazillion is a word. I just don't know how many zeroes will follow the nine in this case) other reasons why I hate laundry. Or, it could just be that my laundry experience today is quite different than what it should have been.
Today I found my dryer had betrayed me.
After hauling said laundry downstairs (five baskets and counting) I have discovered that my dryer hose (the lovely device that expels lint outside of the house) had fallen down. Almost as if a small critter had climbed in and yanked it from the wall. I tried to put it back on, only to have it rip in half. In half.
Now, my washer is running, my dryer is looking at me forlornly like I ripped off one of its fingernails and I need to fix the damn thing. I hate fixing damn things.
So, dear universe, screw you. Screw your inflated hydro bills, your conspiracy to cause me a profound lack of sleep and your determined plan to make me "fix things". I refuse to play your game any more and am going back to bed. I can always buy new clothes.
OMG! I totally feel this way about the universe some days. However, I love doing laundry. I just hate folding it.
ReplyDelete