The Life Cycle of Laundry

We have an established pattern around this castle with our laundry system.  It goes as follows:

1) I wash everything in the whole house that can be balled up to a size smaller than the circumference of the washing machine door.
2) I keep up with regular, follow-up loads for a period of time. 
3) One terrible day, I wake up and discover that the dirty laundry has bred during the night and there is a Mount Clothes-erest in my laundry room. 
4) I spend a whole day doing laundry, thus starting the cycle all over again.

Today was the end of a cycle, meaning that I spent from sunup until now (well, whenever that last load finishes...) washing every textile in this house.  This day in the laundry sequence always makes me extremely grouchy - not BECAUSE I'm doing laundry, but because of what I FIND in the laundry.  Today's treasures included Dora the Explorer knee pads, 4 stuffed animals, a set of sheets that I had washed, dried, folded and set out to be put on the kids' bed, but had been returned to the hamper instead, and best of all: an entire bag of clean clothes that the kids had left at my mom's house, and she had washed and returned.  An. Entire. Bag. Of. Clean. Clothes.

It doesn't matter if it WAS clean, it just sat in the laundry room for a week in a pile of dirty clothes and now I have to wash it all AGAIN. 

The best part about spending the whole day doing laundry is that you have no evidence of anything being accomplished when you are done.  All of your hard work is folded up and put away in drawers or hung up in the closets.  Today, the rest of the house looked like a disaster response team should be called in because I pretty much ignored all of the other messes the kids were making all day while I was folding clothes.  I surveyed the remnants of a blanket fort, the knee deep pile of toys in the kids' room, the stickers all over the couch, and the trail of crushed pretzel dust from Jace driving her tricycle repeatedly over a rogue pretzel in the kitchen floor that had missed the dustpan in a maintenance sweep earlier.  Hmmm...I decided to call and prepare the hubs for this before he got home.  I wanted to save him from himself, and eliminate the risk that he may walk in and say something really stupid like, "Hey, this place is a wreck - what did you DO all day?!" 

"Hey babe, FYI the house is a wreck, but I got ALL of that laundry done!"
"That's cool... Wait, the house is so bad you called me?!  Do I need a hazmat suit or something?"
"Not quite."  (I described the scene.)
"Oh, well I'm not going to be home for like, an hour so...."
"Stop.talking.now.I.don't.want.to.have.to.kill.you.in.your.sleep...Ok.love.you.byeee!"

Phew.  Good thing I called him.

There's another phone call I need to make, though.  I need to call MY mom.  The woman who did MY laundry (and four other people's too) for 17 years.

I need to tell her THANK YOU for the following:

-every stain she removed.

-every tube of chapstick, balled up piece of paper, and handful of change that she rescued from our pants pockets (or rocks, dandelions, Barbie shoes, chunks of dried Play-doh...).

-every shirt that she turned right-side out to fold (especially the long-sleeved ones).

-every clean item that she probably washed about 3 times before we actually put it away or wore it.

-every wet towel she found in the floor...or on the bed...or behind the door...

-alllll of the socks that she ever unballed before putting them in the washer.

-every missing sock she found in a random place around the house while cleaning, and returned to it's home - clean - without anyone even noticing.

-actually, for just even allowing us to wear socks....because I'm seriously thinking about banning them altogether in this crash pad.

-anything she ever had to "sniff-check" to see if it was really dirty, or just got thrown in the floor.


Ok, the last load is done!  Now it is time for me to make my traditional declaration - the avowal that I make at this juncture of the laundry cycle each and every time:

I will NEVER let this pile get this big again. (HA!)

Also, I hung a sign on each of the dressers that says "If you unfold/remove any of the items in these drawers for any reason other than to put it onto your body and wear it for an entire day - I will cut you."


♥M

Space Wars

Why do married people have to live together?  I mean, who started that?  I get sharing a house, I suppose, but a ROOM?!  It's too much.

I used to think that the hubs and I just needed more space.  If we had a bigger house, we could spread out more and fight less about what to do with each inch of wall space, what angle each picture frame should be at, and where I am or am not allowed to place a clock. 

Then I realized...it's not the house.

We are both very affected by our environments.  We agree that knick knacks are the devil, and antiques make us itchy.  That's where the similarities end.  Agree on a paint swatch?  Never.  Pick curtains out together?  Please, God, no.

This is what the hubs wants the house to look like:

I could be exaggerating, but I'm not entirely sure.  He doesn't like anything on the walls, floor, or taking up space.  This eliminates decorations, furniture, and pretty much all signs of life, sooooo....

 

 

This is what I want the house to look like:

Despite his accusations, I am neither tacky nor driven to cover the walls with nail holes.  I might get tired of those white walls, though....

 

 

It doesn't really matter WHAT we want, though, because this is what the house actually looks like:

Ok, it's not THAT bad...but that's what it feels like sometimes.

 

 

So really, it's only ever pointless (for now) to ever argue about what WE want the house to look like.  The kids took over.  All of the stuff that I begged to hang on the walls is gone and there are pictures of them hanging up now.  Everything that was on our living room bookshelves is in boxes in the attic - it's full of toys now.  (THEIR bookshelf was already full of THEIR books, duh.)  Our coffee table drawers have puzzles in them now...I don't even remember what I kept in those.  Our DVDs are in the attic and have been replaced with Disney movies and Baby Einstein.  My scrapbook gear got packed up and my craft drawers are full of Hello Kitty coloring books, safety scissors and scented magic markers. 

 

The joke was on us. 

 

One day, however, there won't be Barbie shoes to step on in the hallway, Legos sticking out from under my refrigerator, doll clothes in the laundry hamper, or crayons melted on the heating vents.  And I will miss those things.  I will look around at all of my "grown up" stuff that is now safe from being destroyed, used as weapons, or causing safety hazards... such as anything glass, scented candles, anything with batteries or moving parts, decorative items that cost more than $5.00... and I will sigh wistfully.  I will wish there was a sticky spot on my entertainment cabinet to wipe away, puzzle pieces in the floor to pick up, or a hula hoop to trip over by the front door. 

 

I suppose I shall find comfort in still having the hubs around to argue with.  We can revive the traditions of going behind each other and moving things on a shelf an inch to the left, throwing away ugly rugs when the other one isn't home, and lamenting over the drawer handles being a stainless vs. brushed nickel finish to our hearts content.

 

♥M