|A move towards order, folded things anyway… see my nice PJ bottoms on the pile there…|
|Yuk, it smells as bad as you’d expect. It is apparently self-replenishing|
|The big picture – note instructions in big letters on the dryer door.|
|How so many smalls can make a big…|
|It’s the children’s art gallery too…|
|Laundry flotsam – or jetsam maybe|
Inspiration is a very unreliable commodity. It was scarce today so I asked Twitter what I should do for my picture of the day.
@Muteswann suggested laundry, quickly followed by @MsAlliance’s suggestions of supper or washing up. But as supper was largely inaccessible to a camera phone, plus she said first, laundry it is.
At first glance laundry is dull, deadly dull, boring and really not very interesting. But, then again, I do spend a lot of time involved with it.
What can I tell you about laundry and I?
There are at least two loads a day – usually more. Otherwise, I suspect I’d vanish under a stinking, crinkly heap of slightly damp, discarded clothing. How long would it take, do you think?
I gave a very fetching pulley, but everything goes in the dryer. I know line drying is more wholesome, but I know having newly dried clean laundry either shat upon by birds or rained upon would upset, well, it would upset me.
A lot of things turn up in the washing machine because I refuse to check the pockets. I pocket any money and pitch the rest into a box on the windowsill.
Despite running for a couple of hours a day, the washing machine is often whiffy, or maybe because of it. I’ve tried several cures, but none really work.
One of the Boys’ chores is to put the folded (or occasionally ironed, but not very often because that’s partly what the dryer does, isn’t it?) stuff away. However, they seem incapable of working out what belongs to whom and so there’s an almost daily round of “I haven’t got any school trousers or why are the three-year-old’s pants in my drawer”. Now this is deadly boring.
The walls of the laundry room are adorned with my son’s artwork. Great fat reams of it come home at the end of ever term dripping glitter or painted pasta shapes as they go. I love that my boys are creative, but I absolutely hate having to find a home for this stuff, because, obviously, it can’t get chucked out. Now I stick it on the walls of the laundry where it still annoys me but not much because I’m already cross about being there.
So, there you have it. My laundry life… @Muteswann, I’ll bet you’re glad you suggested it!