The Men in My Laundry

One morning several years ago my phone rang. Back then, I probably had to pick up the phone with my foot, knock it to the floor, and poke the "speaker" button with my big toe, since during that time, if I was conscious I was breastfeeding and managing a toddler tantrum. I remember clearly the sounds on the other end of the line, though. A gurgly, choking sob, and then the words, "the laundry..." Imagine the way Marlon Brando says, "the horror, the horror!" in Apocalypse Now and you get the picture.

It was my friend who had managed to have herself four boys in a row. Yep, laundry's a...bummer.

Now, this is not an aspirational blog. I'm not gonna presume to know more about laundry than you, or tell you what products to use. In fact, I just fished dead leaves and bugs out of the bottom of my Costco vat-o-detergent so I could do one more load before I had to go out and buy more.

The week I decided to "sprinkle" our laundry with lavender oil, we all looked like we had been eating greasy pizza, very carelessly.

And, during the Great Clothesline Experiment of '07, my son asked me one day if I could buy him a new gym uniform that "didn't hurt". I almost severed a finger while folding the bathtowels. Yes, our laundry had all the softness and comfort of failed papier mache projects.

But, I do have a certain unique perspective to offer on laundry...one you may not have considered before. For instance, did you know that each load has a unique personality? Oh yes, I've identified several here at our house. It's really dependent upon what tumbles out when you open the dryer door.

For instance, there is "the Executive". He likes to throw a lot of money around and make sure his expensive pens and important business receipts get a good washing. Oh, and those plastic points that keep his shirt collars stiff? You'll be stepping on those for days. Have you met the Executive? I'll bet he's been to your house, too.

Another frequent visitor to our laundry is a real Bad Boy. I call him "the Artist". Chalk, crayons, permanent marker...it's not the medium that's important, it's the message, man. And the message is that someone will be needing a lot of new clothes when the Artist pays a visit.

And finally, I always look forward to the new treasures that "the Collector" brings with him. Rocks, video game cartridges, avocado pits, granola bars....the Collector is as interesting as he is indiscriminate in his collecting.

Now, some of you may be asking, "Why doesn't she just empty out their pockets?" To which I respond in a really bad British accent, "Not bloody likely!"

Who visits you in the laundry room?