my hatred of laundry

I love to cook, sew, mop, dust, bake, organize, and sweep.

I don’t mind vacuuming, doing the dishes, scrubbing, sweeping, or taking out the trash.

I hate doing the laundry.

I’m not kidding. You may think I’m kidding, and if so I am honored that you would consider me so domestic as to be incapable of loathing a household chore, but I’m not. Here is proof positive that laundry is nothing if not my arch enemy:

First of all, this is what our dirty clothes hamper looks like.

With no room left, clothes have crept their way through the rest of our house. Like the bathroom.

They’ve strewn themselves all over the chair in our bedroom.
And some have found a home next to my dresser.

You may think, “Wow, she’s being pretty open about the more-than-slightly embarrassing state of her house.” And this is true. But the reason I’m sharing so willingly is because I don’t care. Well, I didn’t care, until last night.

Last night I was commenting to Dan about how low I’m running on clean clothes to wear and how maybe the laundry should “get done” (how’s that for passive voice?). The man is a saint, mind you, and he has done much much much more than his share of laundry since the beginning of our marriage*(see note). But apparently even saints have their limits.

Dan: “I was wondering how long it would take you…”
Me: “What do you mean by that?”
Dan: “Well, I haven’t done the laundry because I want to see how long until you would break down and do it.”
Me: (with a hint of raised voice) “Oh it’s really that bad is it?!”

I used to not care, but now the battle lines have be drawn.

My apathy has turned into pride at the growing mountains of clothing collecting around our apartment. I will hold out until my shoulders are swallowed up by a 4 foot tide of dirty linens. I will ignore the extent to which I miss that “spring rain” scent on my clothes. I will bust out those bottom-of-the-drawer clothes and wear them with pride, for I truly, plainly, undeniably hate laundry.

*Note: In an attempt to win Dan’s heart sophomore year of college, I actually did his laundry all year. and patched it. and removed stains. and folded it. Greater love has no one than this, I tell you.

4 Responses to “my hatred of laundry”

  1. The Germanns

    Allison, you have no idea how much I love your post. And the pictures. Because now I don’t feel so bad about the fact that my piles look incredibly similar. My reason is that I hate our basement, and that’s where the laundry machine is. First I was creeped out that all the bad people in our scary NE Minneapolis neighborhood had figured out how to break in and they were just waiting for me in the basement. And then I was afraid of our creepy neighbors who moved in upstairs and share out basement.

    And then they moved out and we started working on the house and we’re never home, so the laundry remains.

    So, thanks!

  2. Andy Catts

    You know, I can’t say that I hate laundry quite that much…but I know what you mean. Given that we don’t want to pay $$$$ to do laundry at our apartment (tiny washer/dryer at $1/ea would kill) we wait until we visit home…and we have mountains of laundry. Like, we just may be bringing our entire wardrobe home.

    I wish I could use the tactic Dan uses, but unfortunately, I run out of clothes faster than Elisha does (or I’m not willing to re-wear them.) Thus, I must do laundry (and frequently I do it all because she doesn’t think about it.) Alas. Cursed blessing of clean clothes. Hey, at least we don’t have to pull out the ‘ol washboard…

  3. danae

    So I’ve got a load in our washer right now…haha. But we all have our things. I hate taking the trash out, so we play a version of your laundry game with the kitchen trash bin.


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