Thursday, September 09, 2004

Soundtrack by Don Henley

Mrs. A's post I referenced yesterday talks about doing the Aardvark's laundry. Jordana thinks I might be a little bit spoiled (I am, but not by a little bit - rather by a lotta bit) and EarthGirl was nice enough to point me to a site with instructions on how to do my own. (along with a pointer to an EBay auction for fabric softener coupons so I wouldn't be so clingy! Heh.)

I want it to be known that I used to do the laundry, and in dire need could do so again. It's just not as simple as it used to be.

When all you owned were blue jeans and T-shirts, the laundry was fairly simple. Towels, jeans and dark T-shirts over there and socks, undies and light T-shirts over here. Sheets were a load by themselves unless you had just a few socks and things and then they got thrown in with that load. Everything got washed and then went in the dryer, which back then just had one setting: Nu-Q-lar®.

Now it's oh-so-different. Half the clothes nowadays get some sort of preferential treatment. This shirt gets washed with this load, unless that shirt is in there and then it gets washed with THAT load. And it needs to be hung to air dry unless it's one of the YAC's, in which case it can go in the dryer, but you have to have the dryer set to Sup-R-Fluff-O-Rama® and then listen for the buzzer to pull it out and then reset the timer for another 10 minutes, but only on Tuesdays and Thursdays and Sunday afternoons. Otherwise the dryer can be set to Scorch-O-Matic®, but the shirt must be pulled out after 5 minutes and shaken to the four corners of the room then placed flat on the drying rack.

And that's not even talking about which pre-treat-soak-n-scrub-n-scour-alpha-hydro-deterge-a-mide-a-softener to use and when. I kid you not (well...maybe just a teensy bit). It takes a PhD to do laundry these days.

When Mrs. A got home on Saturday she called for The Great Laundry Migration to gather all of the dirty clothes from their various far-flung exotic locales and form a single mound in the middle of the garage (which if you remember, is NOT a garage any longer). And then she proceeded to sort it into smaller piles which were then prioritized according to how desperately we needed the clothing of that particular type. She brought me in and explained what was in each pile.

"This is a dark load and most of your work shirts are there, except for the dark green one which goes over there. Oh, and the purple one and red one go in this pile because I wash all our purple and red things separately in case they bleed. This is the white load and over here are the jeans and towels, except for the kitchen towels because they go here. Now my underwear goes in this pile, because it gets washed in cold, but the kids underwear goes over in that pile. If we have enough, I separate this into two loads, otherwise they get combined together, or you could put this half with that load and the other half with that one."

I found myself nodding and trying to back slowly out of the room. "Uh, yeah. I've got it ... uh ... I think. Why don't I just stay out of your way?"

A little while later I came upon a pair of my unmentionables and proudly took them into the garage and deposited them on the correct pile. "Heh. What a good boy am I." Or so I thought.

The next day Mrs. A informed me, "You put your underwear on the white pile, but they don't go there because I wash the white load in hot water and your underwear only get washed in warm."

You know, if it's all the same to you, I think I'd rather stay spoiled and clingy.

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