Lauuuuundry Time

Ugh. Do we really have this much to do and fold?

When my husband and I were just my husband and I, laundry didn’t take up much of my time or my thoughts. Sure, we had our share, but as people who worked in offices, we had quite a few items getting professionally cleaned by our dry cleaner, and for the most part it seemed that we managed to knock out doing/folding laundry once a week on a Sunday afternoon while watching Netflix DVDs or CSI.

These days, I have two kids who wear their food (and the dirt and snow from the playground). I work at home, which inherently seems to involve more outfit changes (Days often go like this: sweats and tee until I have to go to a meeting, then professional clothes, then back to a casual jeans-and-sweater outfit for picking up kids and ballet and tae kwan do). And my husband’s job now is much more casual than the one he had years ago; therefore, less dry-cleaning and more home-cleaning.

Laundry has grown to become the bain of my existence. Oh, I hate it. We’re definitely the fold-it-and-put-it-away-types (OK, most of the time), because the thing I hate worse than actually doing all of that laundry is having to dig through a basket of clean, wrinkly, tangled laundry to find a pair of socks that match. But my goodness. It’s never-ending—which makes sense because it’s clothes, and we wear those all the time—but seriously. This is ridiculous.

It sneaks up on you, too. We tend to do a lot of laundry on the weekends and put it away on Sundays, getting the kids to “help” (yes, those quotation marks are on purpose), but by Wednesday, there are at least a couple more loads to do. What? How? How do people with three or four or five kids stay sane?

One year when my youngest brother was in college, he secretly started sending his laundry to a service that apparently preyed on naïve college students. They sent it all back to him, clean and ironed and folded. I’m not sure how he expected to slip this one past my mother, who was singlehandedly paying his tuition and helping him with many bills. But when a bill showed up one time at her house for several hundred bucks for ONE month’s worth of laundry, it came to an end pretty fast. I remember my brother and I laughing about it later. He had very little understanding of how much that service cost and figured whatever it was would be worth it: BECAUSE LAUNDRY IS A HORRIBLE WAY TO SPEND YOUR TIME.

Laundry-folding is right up there with getting a cavity filled for me. But until I’m a zillionaire, I don’t think I can justify asking (or paying) anyone else to do it all for us. Only I know the way I like my sweats folded, and how my kids’ drawers are organized.

I think if my job was doing and folding laundry for people, I would charge $100 a load. That’s reasonable, right?