Saturday, I did 734 loads of laundry. Now I know how the people at the post office feel about the mail — it never stops. It just keeps coming.
Sometimes entire weeks will go by with the clean laundry not actually making it to it’s final destination. Laundry gets washed, sometimes two or three times. Laundry gets dried — eventually. Laundry gets folded — more or less. With good intentions, laundry gets put neatly into the laundry basket. And then without notice, the laundry’s trip home is cancelled. The laundry is forced to sit on the laundry tarmac, sometimes for weeks at a time, with no way to let the other socks and underwear know what happened to them.
Then, at some point, it just seems easier to get dressed in the kitchen right out of the laundry basket. And then at the end of the day, the clothes end up in a different laundry basket where the laundry cycle starts all over again. Kind of like the laundry version of Groundhog Day. And the socks and underwear, they heave heavy sighs and cry in frustration because all they want is to get home, to sleep in their own drawer.
In our next house, we are going to skip the pretense of having dressers and drawers. We are just going to have laundry baskets. Everyone, including the socks, will be much happier this way.