Today’s the day – the day I whip our mischievous little laundry troll into submission. The house is in various states of distress, but dirty clothes and towels are definitely competing against the dishes for the Greatest Mess In The House award. So far – the socks are winning over the cups and that says a lot because I’m like the girl in Signs; I leave cups all over the house. I don’t mean to, it just…happens. There could be hair, dust, bugs, microscopic amounts of saliva that falls to the bottom of the glass, floating around waiting to be swallowed – it’s just – ewwwww. I never finish the last drop of anything for fear of instant death. Anyway, I digress.
Laundry – it’s the bane of all evils in my home. Why? Because every time I do it, not only must I gather, sort and relocate said laundry, I must then survive the trip through the garage and into the laundry room without encountering that nasty and somewhat sneaky bastard troll. I KNOW he pulls socks, underwear and towels out of the machines and throws them around the room in there for no reason I understand, and then moves my neatly sorted piles across the floor like a rooting puppy looking for lunch. Perhaps he likes to redecorate his space on a regular basis or simply enjoys pissing me the F off. I go for the latter.
I complained about laundry earlier and the dear Miranda Stork mentioned that the dirty clothes reproduce on their own in her home. I sat back and thought OMG, this is TOTALLY true. Where the HECK did all this dirty laundry come from – surely not the mere four bodies in this house created it all? It then led to a conversation about Sex-Education for the Modern Household Laundry Room. It’s a fabulous idea if you think about it, no? I mean, humans do it – practice safe-sex as a way to manage reproduction rates, so why NOT the knee-highs and trousers and work shirts and skivvies? Seriously, this should be taught in every laundry troll schoolhouse – because it’s not OUR fault the laundry reproduces at alarming rates during the week, so it MUST be that dastardly creature hiding in the crack between the washer and dryer, or dangling from the rafters on top of that busted old door we have no use for. I can see the panic in his eyes now and hear his dusty voice echo through the garage: You want me to do what with the boxer briefs and tank tops?! Is that even LEGAL in the States?! Of course I would have to set some new ground rules so that the mismatched socks were EXTRA careful to follow this new Laundry Anti-Breeding Law, but it would be so worth it. If they came out of the dryer in pairs again, and the shirts weren’t all twisted with the pants (I mean, really…it’s indecent to even THINK about how those shirt sleeves and pant legs became inside out and knotted together!) then it would make my job so much easier. It might even make sorting the clean clothes and folding them tolerable. Almost. Because something also happens between the short trip with the laundry baskets to the closets and dressers in my home. You don’t have enough money for therapy for me to talk about that today.
So, now that I have vented about my sneaky little laundry troll (the git, he’s in there right now tossing stuff about, I just KNOW it) and have introduced the future Laundry Anti-Breeding law to you all, it is time to set the computer aside and begin my rounds. I will be prepared and fully armed with a metal food strainer on my head (vents are important for air flow, mind you), those indestructible cutting mats that will serve as breast-plate inserts beneath my shirt in case projectiles are involved, and an apron made of Kevlar. My troll won’t take to these changes happily, in fact, I might add my famed cracked wooden spoon to my armor, just in case I have to whack some sense into the teeny ogre. What? Don’t look at me like that – laundry is WAR in the Dawson-Holly household. WAR is not pretty. WAR is messy and exhausting and if that darn dwarf with a knack for displacing my dirty clothing wouldn’t take such pleasure in his job, this whole thing would be unnecessary. If you want to judge me – fine, but for those of you with your own laundry troll, wish me happy hunting, and a favorable outcome that results in clean underwear and shirts ending up in drawers and on hangers by bedtime.
Happy Laundry Day, Everyone!