Friday, April 2, 2010


Ahhh laundry.

Don't you just love the sorting, the folding, the laying-out-flat-to-dry sweaters? The sense of accomplishment when the clothes are clean and folded precisely. The balled up piles of bleached white socks. The stack of fluffy soft towels and crisply ironed sheets.

And as if that alone weren't enough, you also get an added bonus: the shiny smiling faces of your family as they cheerfully take their pile of clothes, kissing you on the cheek as they march off to their rooms with shouts of "Hurray Mom! Thank you for keeping us clean and presentable once again!"


The laundry room - a necessary evil. Giant devices of torture that can turn a hundred dollar sweater into a ball of cat yarn. Eater of socks and stockings, it waits until your back is turned and it's filled with a load of whites before snarfing a red tshirt into it's cavernous piehole.

In an effort to placate the gods of all things clean and fresh-smelling, I
had our laundry room repainted and added some new shelving it to this week. In preparation, I cleaned around and under the washer and dryer - a task that is not regularly part of the daily, weekly or even monthly to-do list.

No you don't clean under yours regularly. Don't even try to tell me you do. I've been to your house and guess what? I checked. And it's nasty.

Anyway, in only three and a half years of living at Beck House, here's what has accumulated under and around that area:

Seven white socks, each totally unique and vastly different from the other

Three colored socks in varying styles of stripes and polka dots

A twenty dollar bill, freshly laundered and still folded

Two tubes of chapstick, also freshly laundered

One tube of lip gloss

One tube of some sort of body lotion with glitter

A wife beater t-shirt

A navy blue toddler slipper
A thong

Three laundry detergent caps

A bag of microwave popcorn, still in the wrapper

Ok, I get the detergent caps, which speak to the function of the room but don't say much about my ability to clean it.

If you're wondering where your missing socks go when you do laundry - I have found them. Please come claim your socks before they run away and hide again.

The lip gloss, lotion and chapstick belong to Ziggy, who's pockets are filled with them daily in and effort to beautify what is already, in my modest opinion, perfect.

It's just a guess, but since I know Moose and TK don't wear them the wife-beater is probably a leftover from Moose's birthday party last summer. With 16 twenty-somethings sleeping over, something is bound to get left behind. I'm just grateful it was only t-shirt.

Clearly the twenty was mine - remember the time I told you I was pretty sure I was missing twenty dollars? No? Well I was. So it's mine.

Ditto on the thong.

Even the slipper I can figure out - it's small, probably fell out of the hamper and before you know it, it's scurried under and behind the machine.

But the bag of popcorn??? Seriously. Popcorn?

Anyone care to explain this one to me, please feel free...


Anonymous said...

ok the popcorn is mine.
i forgot you had the popcorn machine. i brought it for a snack.
sorry Spendy

Little Ms J said...

We have a magic grab bag full of mismatched items that we don't have the time or energy to track down. Additionally, Mr. J's gym membership card is always freshly laundered and smells like a rain forest.