The Great Laundry Crisis of 2008

Here’s the thing – before I got married I loved to do laundry. On my Facebook page, laundry used to be listed as one of my interests. Thats how much I liked it. I considered it an interest. I like going through all my clothes, making them clean again, folding and putting them back in their proper places. That’s just good clean fun.

Then I got married to a dirty boy and it all changed.

Now, Chris is not a smelly dirty boy. He actually smells pretty fantastic when he’s all sweaty – like firewood and soap. But he spends much of his days in either a wood shop or a steel shop building theater sets. Its a dirty job. So I expect a certain level of dirty clothes. But the amount of laundry that is generated in our small two-person household is unexplainable, uncomprehendable, unacceptable. Its like an act of God.

On any given day, the hamper and/or big blue chair in our bedroom is overflowing with laundry – socks, pants, undershirts, bras, sweaters, blouses. And it doesn’t have to be clothing either. Shoes, belts, and purses are all part of our Great Laundry Pile in the Sky. Sometimes, we lose our dog Lucy in a laundry drift.

At the heart of The Great Laundry Pile in the Sky is the fact that neither Chris or I feel like we should have to do the laundry. It’s a big waiting game. He feels like if he does the laundry, then he’ll be stuck doing our laundry for the rest of our lives. I feel like if I do the laundry its because I’m the wife and, honey, that ship don’t sail in my house. So, TGLPITS continues to overtake our bedroom, our home, and our lives.

I mentioned to my mom one day that I was making a statement in our house and had chosen not to touch the laundry until Chris did something first (this would be the picture at the top of the page…). My mom said that I should try to do one small load a day so that it didn’t feel so overwhelming (lets pause to appreciate that my laundry is actually described as “overwhelming”). But I refused. Clearly this is a mature decision. All that happened was Chris didn’t wear boxers or undershirts for a few days and I continued my silent seething. Finally, I gave in and took the laundry to a laundry mat, paid $100 and had them do it all. Chris got mad. We had The Fight of 2007 and called it a day.

Recently I’ve given up the ghost. The fact is, I need clothes more than he does. I can’t go to work without a clean shirt and pair of pants without drawing some serious looks, whereas he is right at home in a dirty shop in dirty clothes. So, I give in. I’ll do the damn laundry. But lets be clear: This is not a wife submitting to her husband, this is an independent woman cleaning her clothes so that she can to go her professional career and make money to support her family.

Nevermind the boxers with hammers on them in the hamper.