On doing the laundry….

I hate doing laundry. Hate it. In fact, when I got married, that was one of the first chores that we ultimately decided would be primarily my husband’s chore (did you catch that? MY husband. MINE). He sort of used it as a bit of a bargaining chip for further chore divvying and, rightly so, continues to use it as such. I really hate doing laundry that much.

He’s good at it too. Sort, separates, folds, the works. Only once has he botched something of mine, but I’ve since clarified the specific items of my clothing that cannot go in the dryer. There are certain things I have that just have to be air-dried.

Sweaters must be air dried (and then tumbled to soften them up again). Denim is the same.
Pricy undergarments never end up in the dryer.
Sweatshirts and sweatpants, in order to maintain the integrity of the length and softness I require, must also be line dried.

But, naturally, all the clothes must first be washed and clean. I mean, what’s the point of airing out dirty laundry?

It’s stinky and it makes you look rather foolish. Nobody wants to see your filthy clothes out on the line or hanging over your balcony. It’s gross (thank you, Billy Bush).

It makes no sense, right?

Even more foolish would be to take someone else’s dirty laundry and air that out all on your own. Frankly, if you have no idea where my laundry is kept or how often I clean it or even when laundry day is in my house, why would you even bother to march into my home and air out my laundry? You have no idea if it’s clean or dirty. In fact, some of it may be stained and I may be waiting for the Tide pen to do it’s magic. It takes time to clean out stains and you have no idea how long I might have been trying to get rid of the stain or how close I’m getting. Or some of my laundry might be in piles so that I can get rid of all the things I no longer want or need in my life (I purge quite a lot anyhow).

So if someone were to just waltz on into my house, uninvited, and grab whatever laundry they wanted in order to air it out, they might be royally fucking some things up.

My point?

If you want to air your own laundry on your own line, that’s fine and I’m okay with it.
But don’t drag my laundry into your mess.

I’ve had roommate before and we’ve combined laundry. It never really ends well. Socks get mismatched and shirts misplaced. In short, once you get laundry all mixed together, it’s really hard to un-mix it. So why even start?

One thought on “On doing the laundry….

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