If forced to rank the domestic tasks from 1-10, with 10 being the least hated and 1 being sheer hell, doing the laundry would be a soft 8. What’s 10? Nothing. Nothing is 10 because basically everything domestic sucks balls. I am not very good at being a traditional woman.
I hate cooking, dusting, running the vacuum, making lunches, decorating, picking up other people’s shit around the house, baking, cooking…..
I hate it all.
I seriously want someone to do all those things for me so I can just drink wine, write, read a book, and get a sun tan. Oh, and be with my family of course. I do love them.
Laundry would have to be the only thing I really don’t mind doing. I do like the completeness of it. Separate clothes, wash, dry, fold. Done! But just because I rank this as a 8, it doesn’t mean it’s a Martha Stewart love fest up in here. There are plenty of things I deeply hate about laundry. And other things that just generally annoy the shit of me.
So much so that I am writing a bitch fest post about it.
Ironing
I don’t iron. I don’t have an ironing board. My daughter, Scarlett, saw one in the store when she was younger and asked me if it was a sled. A sled! The only reason we even have an iron in this house is because my husband Vince got an iron for Christmas from his mom and dad. I’ve only used it twice and that was to fuse together the girls’ Perle beads projects. Those things are also awful, btw. Don’t ever try to move them before fusing or you will lose your shit.
Folding Fitted Sheets
These mother fuckers. I have watched videos on how to fold them. I know it’s possible. I’ve had professional cleaners even try to show me IN PERSON how to fold. They make it look so damn easy. Put your hands in the pockets, put them together, make a rectangle……
NO, FUCK YOU. IT’S NOT WORKING!
I can’t do it. I still make attempts here and there to fold them, but it never ends well. Sometimes, I just roll it into a ball and actually say “fuck you” to the sheet like it can hear me.
Why does it matter? Why does this thing need to be folded so elegantly? It’s just going on my bed and being covered by a blanket. I don’t have to look at the wrinkles.
Fuck you, fitted sheets.
Fucking Fabric Labels
Who the hell came up with these? Half the time our clothes have zero instructions in English and I’m tasked with trying to figure out what a triangle with an X on it means. Why are there so many symbols?
Seriously, you need like 2 on a label.
1- Gentle or Regular Wash. When the label says ‘hand wash’ I just laugh. Who hand washes their clothes? Seriously? I don’t need the water temperature either. Everything goes on cold. Unless it’s towels or sheets. Those things need burned to be cleaned.
2- To dry or not to dry. I just need to know if this thing can go in the dryer. I don’t need to know the temperature either. Everything is low. Any other temperature is risky and I’m not about shrinking any of my family’s clothes. My girls already wear crop tops and short-ass shorts. The skin that is being covered needs to stay covered.
Mom vs the “Stain”
Half the time, I don’t even know what the hell the stain is. It could be blood, chocolate, food dye, dirt, marker, butter, sauce, ink, frog guts, you name it. My family is gross and messy. The options are endless.
How am I supposed to get rid of something if I don’t even know what it is? Most of the time, I can’t get the stain out and am left with a couple options:
1- Keep and wear it – especially if it’s Scarlett’s. That child always looks like she just rolled in shit or she’s homeless. And, she is a beast to get dressed most of the time. If she likes a piece of clothing, I don’t care how many stains are on it. It’s a keeper.
2 – If it’s anyone else’s, I usually throw it away. First I rub their noses in it like when a dog goes poop or pee in the house. See? See what you did?! Good job, now it’s going in the garbage. You should be more careful with your shit.
I get a bit of satisfaction out of doing that.
The Piles
Not the piles of dirty clothes that occur around the vicinity of my kids’ hampers. That is fucking annoying though. It takes soooo much effort to throw your dirty underwear an extra 8 inches, doesn’t it?
I’m living in a house of assholes.
No, I’m talking about the piles of clean, folded laundry I place on my dryer.
Last year I discovered Marie Kondo. She is adorable and she is a genius and I want to put her in my pocket. Her style of folding is AH-MAZING. If you haven’t heard of her or her method – check it out and try it.
It’s wonderful. Clothes fit in the drawers better and we can easily see what’s in there without sifting through stacks, unfolding everything in the process. My only problem with the KonMari folding technique is the vertical Jenga-like towers the clothes turn into when I am stacking them on top of the dryer – waiting for the kids to come and put them away.
(Bwhahahahahahahha, right!! Soooo funny!!! Because they don’t ever fucking do that! Piles of clothes will sit for weeks there if I don’t say something.)
However, those little assholes that I love with all my heart will come in and grab the jeans or the pj’s they just wore yesterday off the bottom of the folded pile, and TOTALLY DESTROY THE TOWER OF NEATLY FOLDED CLOTHES!
*me losing my shit*
Why? Why? Why not take the whole damn pile and put it in your drawer? Put it away!
Sooooo, yeah. You can totally tell I love laundry, right? However, it is the only mom job that I get paid for.
Nothing better than finding a wet $20 in the washer. Finders, keepers fam. You leave it in there, it’s mine.
It’s these little wins that make motherhood so rewarding. 🙂