My friend sent me a forward – and I never read forwards but it was about LAUNDRY so I had to.
There are five true things about laundry around here.
1. It is never done.
2. There is some clean, unfolded, un-put-away laundry around this house at all times. You may not see it. We may have stuffed it in the closet or the bathtub or the top bunk so you won’t see it when you visit. But it is there.
3. In spite of the constant presence of this kind of laundry, no one except me has ANY IDEA of where to find clean things. Which obviously means I am rearing blind, deaf offspring, just as the article below describes.
4. Shrink happens. Suck in that gut and button those suckers.
5. People around here change clothes five times a day and get them dirty for fun. Again, see below.
And now that I have, Dragnet-like, given you the facts, the poetical version is below. – Katie
lamentations of the laundress
When the laundry is made clean, then the people are blinded. “Where are my socks?” they ask, even though their very socks are before them, in the basket or even in a designated sock drawer. “Where is my shirt?” the people ask, because they are unwilling to turn their faces, even to turn their faces to the left and see where their shirts have been placed. And when I say to you, “Right there” and I point, you do not incline your eyes to where I am pointing but look wildly at the ceiling.
When the laundry is made dirty, I, the mom, merciful unless I’m annoyed, wise and faithful, carry the ketchup-laden clothing down 2 flights of stairs and make great mounds of filthy garments, and then I wash those garments, because I am altogether wonderful, although I smell like pee-clothes, and then I dry those clothes and then I carry the clothes up 2 flights of stairs and fold them and put them in baskets, for your drawers are full of clothes you won’t wear and I am too tired from answering questions to sort them. And when I have done this thing and I should find favor in your sight, then you decide that every sort of evil should be done. And you upend the baskets and use them for a cat cage or wear them as a robot head and you take the towels and wear them as capes and all your folded clothes are utterly downcast. And though I chide you, you hear me not, you are as the deaf.
And though you have done much evil, I would forgive it all if you would not then wear the clean clothes outside for a challenge involving spraying an entire can of sunscreen on your brother and then after you have emptied the can, then his anger rages against you and he then pushes you into the dirt and then, indeed, you come inside and sit on the couch and mourn and use 4 towels to dry yourself. And when your father comes home and his weeping is heard in all the land because he cannot find a towel to use one time and then throw on the bathroom floor, then my own rage burns against your father.
I, the mom, hungry and only relatively sane, am going to throw away all of your clothes and make you go to school naked. Or maybe I’ll just wash them again.