dirty laundry

I do all of our laundry. Every single load of it.

For whatever reason, I ended up with that chore. I always thought the man was supposed to be in charge of auto repair and outdoor grilling.

I am not being sexist. I mean it.

I shouldn't be in charge of laundry, not because it's woman's work, but because women make it into a huge fucking chore.

Belinda has these rules about her clothes. Certain items can't be dried. Certain items can. Some are cold water. If something has a stain, you have to spray it with special stain remover, let it soak in for no less than 2 minutes, then place it in the washer. Oh, but you can't put anything in the washer until there is at least 2 inches of water in the bottom and all of the soap has completely dispersed. You can't wash towels and clothes together. Oh, and god help you if you dried some article of clothing that the stain hasn't completely washed out...

Don't even get me started on the special complex procedures for hanging wet clothes on the drying rack.

And on, and on, and on.

If you wrote down all of Belinda's rules of laundry there'd be more pages than a Congressional budget report.

Here is the procedure for washing my clothes. Stuff washing machine full. Put in soap. Put in 5 quarters. Push go. Drink beer.

It's a little more complicated than that. As I got older, I got more domesticated. I know to separate all the whites from the colors. I wash jeans in a separate load too. But that's pretty much the full extent of my rules.

If something gets mixed up and I end up with a pair of tighty whities in with the jeans, oh well, no big deal. If a red towel ends up in the white and turns everything pink, oh well, no big deal. If that coffee stain didn't come out of my favorite button-down? Wash it 20 more times, it'll come out eventually.

It's a fucking pain the ass to do laundry in our apartment. The washing machine is four flights down in the basement. And there is only one machine, so only one load at a time. We share the machine with 8 other apartments in our building, so often, you'll head downstairs, just to find that someone else beat you to it.

I started to get sick of the laundry routine after a while and I think Belinda sensed it. Now she's helps with the folding and putting away laundry which is that part i hate the most.

Last night, around 11:30, I bring up a load and ask her to help with the folding and hanging. "Not now, I just got cozy on the couch with the dog."
"Come on, it's just one load."
"No, I just got cozy. Leave it and I'll help you when you've finished the next load."
"Belinda, that won't be ready for an hour and you'll be asleep long before that."
"No I won't. I'm not tired. Just leave it."

I walk into the bedroom, and start hanging my shirts anyway. I finished the task about 2 minutes later and walk back into the living room.

Guess who's asleep on the couch all cuddled up with the dog. Must be nice.