Doing Laundry — Part Two

or, Here’s What That’s Got to do With the Price of Eggs

Okay. Now laundry.

If you read my last (and first) post, you know that deciding to do a blog was fraught with a ridiculous amount of psychoanalysis. If you were able to snap yourself back into consciousness after gutting through that confessional-purging-cleansing step with me, reward yourself with something chocolate and accept my thanks for coming back.

When we last left our story, you were waiting with bated breath to learn how I decided to name this thing. Let’s return. . .

I knew a name needed to properly reflect the life I’d be prattling on about. Taking stock of our vast estate, it quickly became apparent that one thing consistently dotted the landscape of our lives.

Piles.

Of…shoes…papers…dog hair…blankets…sweatshirts…backpacks…damp towels…keys…dog poop.

And yes, laundry.

I realized the blog-naming pay dirt, like most things you’re looking for, was buried right there in the laundry.

A realistic definition of laundry is something that’s never done, thanks to it’s perpetual life cycle:

  • Dirty, posing as carpeting on bedroom/bathroom floor
  • Dirty, down the laundry hole, building a mind-numbing pile in the laundry room
  • Sorted, not yet washed
  • Washed, overflowing in baskets
  • Folded, not yet carried upstairs
  • Carried upstairs, not yet deposited in rooms
  • Clean, folded and placed on bedroom floor/chair/bed; never in dresser drawers
  • Clean, folded and down laundry hole, posing as dirty to expedite the forced quarterly room cleaning.

It was clear, seeing it broken down into phases, that laundry is always going on in one phase or another. And no matter who you are, laundry is somehow woven in to the fabric of our lives.

From George Clooney, Oprah, and Bill Gates (none of whom, I’m just guessing, are trying to remember to toss in a load of whites before they leave for work), to the African tribal mother (who’s no doubt bored senseless with the daily trek to the river’s washing rock to pound through a never-ending pile of dusty loin cloths): they got laundry. Maybe the closest they get to doing it is simply producing it. But at the end of the day — or beginning, for that matter — everyone has an appreciation for clean underwear.

The analogy hit me like the scent of my daughter’s soccer socks: life is laundry. We’re all smack dab in the midst of it, whether it’s clean, fresh and neatly folded; a little wrinkled, faded and worn but good enough to wear; or a total mess, stained and carrying a stench that would send a teenaged boy running for his Axe Body Spray.

But in both laundry and life, even their unimaginably filthy worst phase is typically just that; a phase that’s eventually going to change. Unless of course, we opt to hide it behind closed doors, under the bed, or in the corners of our closet. . . or minds, deciding it’s easier not to deal with it.

Thank goodness there’s always hope for a clean start. And like every mother rants, laundry doesn’t just do itself. So eventually we get to the work of sorting, stain-treating and getting a load going.

There’s hidden treasure under those piles of laundry and here’s where I’ll air it — the dirty, the clean and the obscure stuff in between. I’m guessing some days, you’ll see that yours is a lot like mine. And some days you be thankful it’s not.

6 Responses to “Doing Laundry — Part Two”

  1. Busy says:

    Wow Janice,
    I needed to read that. Thank you!
    Busy

  2. Janice Crago says:

    We all have our piles, Biz!

  3. Todd says:

    Congrats on the blog Janice!
    Good stuff – as I expected knowing it’s coming from you!

  4. Janice Crago says:

    Thanks, Mr. T! I’m working on getting caught up on the laundry right now!

  5. Jen says:

    Love reading your work, Janice! You are a great writer with a delightful sense of humor. When do I get to meet the super fab, fellow Fishhooker Janice in person?

  6. Janice Crago says:

    It’s field hockey and football season; think we could get an Indy game on the schedule?

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