Megan Again: The Laundry Wars
By Megan Wirts
I detest doing laundry.
It has been the bane of my existence as an adult and it became worse once I became a mother. Laundry is literally the worst chore that exists. I don’t want to hear how you think any other chore is the worst.You are wrong, laundry is the worst.
I also don’t want to hear how you don’t mind it, or shockingly, love it. I will never understand it and I don’t want to. I don’t want tips and tricks on how to do it or ways to make it more bearable. I have tried them all and I still hate it.
I would rather clean a gas station bathroom that someone just...
used after they ate a gas station burrito than do laundry.
That’s how much I hate laundry.
Living with three other people that change their clothes at least twice, sometimes three times a day, it can feel like a never ending black hole filled with mismatched socks and stinky gym shorts. I’m not the only one that hates it, my husband does too.
He will put clothes in the washing machine and turn it on without protest. However, according to him he would rather have his nose hairs plucked out one by one than fold laundry. Unfortunately, since our children have parents in the laundry haters club and that’s all they have ever known, So obviously, they also hate doing laundry.
It’s mostly my fault. I will take responsibility for passing on my distaste for the cleaning of clothing to my children. I am not quiet about it. I will walk past the growing pile of filth day after day and loudly groan, “UGH! Why is there so much! I don’t want to do it!” Then when I finally break down because everyone is down to their last pair of clean underwear, I will do it with lots of loud sighing and grumbling.
Now, that they are old enough to do their own laundry they do it just the way I taught them, reluctantly and complaining the entire time. I can’t say that I blame them.
Not only do I hate it, I’m terrible at it. I don’t separate anything.
I know that this is super lazy and I have ruined a few things. I know this and I don’t care. If something gets ruined in the wash, then it’s not meant for me. Who do I think I am owning something that is dry clean or hand wash only? I am messy and if I can’t just throw it in the washing machine when I feel like it, then it’s probably too fancy for me.
I also never iron. I own one, my mother gave it to me as a Christmas gift one year because she always notices how my clothes are always a little wrinkled. Sorry, Mom, I haven’t even taken it out of the box. If I want something to not be wrinkly I will toss in the dryer for another go ‘round. It usually does the job and if it doesn’t? Again, not meant for me.
Yes, I know it could be worse. I could have more children with more messy clothes and puked on sheets, but I don’t. I didn’t want more kids because I didn’t want more laundry. For real. that wasn’t the only reason, but it was on the list of reasons not to have a third baby. Laundry is just that bad.
I also know that I am lucky to have my own washer and dryer in my own home. I am privileged in many ways and I thank my lucky stars every day. I am happy to have been born in a time with modern conveniences and that I can afford them. One thing I am certain of is that I wouldn’t have survived a day in the life of a pioneer. Then again, they probably didn’t have as much laundry to do.
I also did use a laundromat for the first few years of my marriage, so I know full well how good I have it. That doesn’t mean I don’t still hate it. As a matter of fact, I sometimes long for those early days of marriage going on laundry dates with my husband. The days when we had only one basket of laundry and all of our socks matched. We didn’t care that it smelled weird and moldy, we were young and naïve.
As of this writing, I have two piles of laundry growing in my bedroom, the dirty pile and the clean pile. Ok, three piles if you want to count the “worn once or twice and still smells cleanish” pile and there is not end in sight. Laundry is forever and it will never go away.
Unless I become a nudist, which I don’t see happening because I hate being cold more than I hate doing laundry.
To those of you that are like me, I am here with you, buried under loads and loads of horrible, awful, mundane and boring laundry.
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