You've already learned some of my quirks, like the whole add to the list then cross it off thing. And some of you also know that I'm a math nerd and love numbers, and am freakishly able to remember almost all the phone numbers that I've dialed. Even once. And that I still know that Darlene's phone number from seventh grade was 593-5952. It's still in there. But you don't yet know about my laundry thing. I love doing laundry. Don't worry, this is not turning into one of those blogs. You know the ones. Happy Homemaker sharing all her tips about buying in bulk and growing her own wheat and making her own shampoo. Not that there's anything wrong with that. At all. I'm just not her.
I'm a horrible housekeeper. My dustbunnies would frighten yours right out of your house. I'm the one who sweeps the room with a glance, not a broom. And I have a closet full of boxes from when we moved into this house nine and half years ago that I haven't unpacked. I can fake being sorta ok at housekeeping with my clutter-free zone (what can be seen from standing at the front door), but my friends know the real me, and she is a pack rat and a piler. But I'm really, really good at laundry.
I think it started with helping Farmor with laundry. (If you missed my Tuesday post, she's my Swedish Grandma.) Farmor did laundry the proper Swedish way which included hanging it outside to dry in the summer. Oh the lovely, crisp cotton sheets dried in the sun. I know various companies have tried to bottle this scent but they can't. There's just no substitute. I hang my laundry out in the summer, too. Ok, not just the summer. In Colorado you can get away with hanging out the laundry about nine months out of the year. And there was that one time I went out the in my boots, in the snow, to hang out the comforters. It was about 60 degrees out. The snow just hadn't melted yet.
It's not just the drying in the sun thing I love, though. I also love the folding the laundry. I love making the lines crisp and smoothing out the wrinkles and making it all symmetrical and perfect. I don't think this makes me weird or a control freak. (I don't. Maybe you do...) Maybe it's mathematical, all those straight lines and the proportions and symmetry. After all, I'm not the accountant type of mathematician. I'm more the geometry and number theory kind of girl. (And you'd believe me if you saw my checkbook. Like they say, I'd rather check my facebook than face my checkbook.) And then when I'm done I can look at all those piles, sorted by whose they are and which drawer they're going to be put into.
Doing the laundry gives me a sense of accomplishment. You start with a mountain of dirty stuff piled on the laundry room floor, and you end up with neat piles of clean, nice smelling, organized clothes. Let's face it, a lot of household chores are repetitive, and there's not much to show for your work at the end of the day. If you organize say, your son's hideously disarrayed closet so that he can find his stuff, you don't really notice, because the closet door is closed. You don't walk by and say “Wow, look how nice that looks.” But at the end laundry day, the baskets are empty, (Alright, I can't resist one tip: get one of those hanging rack arrangements that let's you sort by colors. When the white bag fills up, do a load of white. And so on. No more sorting of the pile on the laundry room floor!) and the drawers are full, and you did that. Your husband is no longer asking, “Honey, do I have any socks?” and your son isn't saying, “Mom, I can't find my favorite sweatshirt!”
Just don't ask me to put it all away. That part I HATE.
This post is linked to Jenny Matlock's Alphabe-Thursday. Go check out what the rest of the class wrote about the letter L!