When we lived in West Virginia our house had the coolest feature, a laundry chute. This laundry chute sent clothes down two floors to the basement. Walking the clothes back up two flights of stairs was the fun part. Shortly after we moved in I noticed something odd. It was summertime and I was washing my daughter’s sweaters and winter PJ’s. It turned out that she loved the laundry chute so much that she would pull clothes out of her closet just so she could throw them down the chute. She also threw toys down the laundry chute and loved to stand in front of the chute and yell down to me if she knew I was doing laundry.
At our current house we don’t have a laundry chute. It is my son’s responsibility to take all of the dirty laundry down one flight of stairs to the basement. He doesn’t carry it; he throws it down the stairs and then piles it up in front of the washer for me. He finds it amusing to wade through the pile of clothes and he even sometimes buries himself in it. He makes fun of his sister’s underwear and to freak her out he will throw dirty clothes at her if she comes near him.
I wish I could have such a good time with dirty laundry. I’ve washed everything from crayons to guitar picks and from rocks to bugs. My husband’s clothes are the worst. He’s a big and tall guy with a 36” inseam. The majority of his clothes cannot be dried in the dryer because even a little shrinkage will mean the clothes will no longer fit him. Because of this I must hang all of his clothes to dry. His jeans must weigh eighty-pounds when they are wet and it’s almost impossible to get them hooked onto a hanger and hung up to dry. When they are dry they are like long, stiff pieces of plywood. A couple 2XL sweatshirts and pairs of sweatpants equal a load of laundry because his clothes are so big.
I remember in junior high I was devastated one day when I went to the restroom and noticed one of my sisters socks stuck to the inside of my pants. I was completed disgusted but thankful that it didn’t fall out in one of my classes. I threw it in the trash and from that day forward was paranoid that other people’s clothes might be stuck inside my clothes. It was a very traumatic experience for me. Maybe that’s why I hate laundry so much.
I remember one day when we had to throw my husband’s cloths away because they were beyond cleaning. We were living in a trailer in Minnesota and noticed mushrooms growing in the bathroom. Now I’m all about nature and natural looking things but when you’re sitting on the shitter and you are counting mushrooms on the bathroom floor, there definitely is a problem.
Turns out one of the pipes had come loose and all of the poop and pee was just piling up under the trailer. My husband had to crawl through it to fix the pipe. Everyone from the “trailerhood” stood around watching as he crawled from the trailer covered in crap. And in true trailer court style they clapped and hooted and hollered as I sprayed him off with the hose. It was like he was a superhero, “crap man.” His complete outfit was thrown out that day, shoes and all.
That is the only time I can remember throwing clothes away instead of washing them. Someday I would like to move to a tropical climate so there aren’t “so many” clothes to wash. Swimming suits, beach towels, tank tops and shorts are my kind of laundry. But because I live in Iowa, I hate laundry.