You'll NEVER guess how I'm spending my Friday night...

...especially if you know me well.

LAUNDRY. I'm doing laundry.

Seriously. Stop laughing!

I know this won't be believed without explanation, so here is the backstory. In addition to the myriad of horrible things that happened in 2007, though it pales in comparison with the abundance of funerals, was this: The Sainted Miss Betty, who's been my housekeeper for 7 - 8 years, RETIRED. She'd warned us of the impending retirement much earlier, but a couple of times, things happened that pushed the date back. I was hoping she'd change her mind; I confess that I couldn't quite believe she'd do such a thing to me - I mean, she knows full well that I have no idea how to work the...thing, that whachamacallit...the big white box where she stacks the clean laundry. And anyway, I just couldn't face the idea of the awfulness of a world without Miss Betty, so I pretended it wasn't happening. This did not work so well as it might have, although when Miss Betty witnessed my extreme distress (there were nearly actual tears, I tell you) she said that my house wasn't so bad, really, it was the huge mansions that tired her out, and so she'd keep cleaning for me, which would also keep a little extra money coming in for her, but only about once a month.

My theoretical solution to this problem was to only eat things that were microwaved in their own disposable dishes and to purchase enough underwear to see me through, even if she missed a month. That's TOTALLY what I'd have done if I were still single, but Alan still wanted actual cooked meals and pointed out that we are running out of drawer space as it is, thus foiling yet another of my brilliant schemes. To be fair, Alan has always done about 90% of his laundry; he feels weird having Miss Betty do it, so he does his on a weekly basis and when she comes, she does mine and all the linens. Um, that is...mine minus the underpants, socks and occasional t-shirt of mine I sneak in when Alan has a load going. :-)

He also, in an extremely irritating grasp of the practical, pointed out that laundry wasn't our only problem. We both clean the kitchen on an ongoing basis and Swiffer the floor pretty often (I go barefoot a lot and I hate feeling crumbs underfoot), but there were bathrooms, dusting and vacuuming to consider as well.

Now, I HATE to dust. I hate to dust with an overwhelming hatred because I have horrible allergies, stirring up the dust makes me sneeze/get stuffed up, then I feel badly all day and, more often than not, have a sinus headache the next. So I let it go too long and when I finally break down and do it, it's even more horrible. I will gladly do every other chore if Alan will dust, but luckily for me, he volunteered for dust duty before I even got round to trying to bribe him (he's a wonderful husband). I cleaned the bathrooms last week, he did it this week when he was off work and I wasn't; we both vacuumed although I'm happy to do that so long as - dust again - he is responsible for emptying the crap-catcher. Hmm, I honestly don't know what you call that - we have a bagless vac so it's got a plastic dish thingy with a hepa filter.

This was working out fairly well, though it was no substitute for The Sainted Miss Betty, but the laundry was piling up. Now, however, Alan has enrolled in a technical writing class at a local college, which starts tomorrow, so I figured that it was only right and fair that I pick up more of the domestic chores. Hence, my attempt tonight at laundry.

Pre-Miss-Betty, my method was to use the washer itself as a dirty clothes hamper; when it got full, I'd add soap, turn it on and hope for the best. But tonight, I have actually sorted things into piles of white/pale colours, bright colours and darks/jeans. My only gripe about the laundry is that it takes too danged long to do. By the time a garment is finally done from start to finish, I'm so tired of the whole chore that I don't even want to put it away. I figure I'll leave it hanging in the laundry room until I need it, by which time I will of course forgotten that I left it somewhere and wind up wearing a Members Only jacket to work because I can't locate a clean sweater. Which could happen - I actually have one.

Even as I blog, I keep thinking the washer is finished, because it goes still and quiet, so I keep getting up and going into the utility room to switch it to the dryer, and finding out that it has merely paused for breath in between what seems to be several hundred stages in this process. Then once I finally have it in the dryer, as happened last night, I'll think it's done and start folding, only to come across a still-damp item.

Aaagh, the folding! Don't even get me started on the folding! That's the part that really wears me out. In the interest of full disclosure, this is because I am not a normal person, being in possession of a few anal-retentive quirks. (HA! A "few"!) It is a family joke that I have CDO - that's like OCD, but in alphabetical order, as it should be. So the folding is a very arduous process. Each of Alan's t-shirts and underpants must be rolled in a certain way but NEVER folded, because rolling results in zero wrinkles, particularly if one is careful with hems, whereas folding creates wrinkles; whether this is because I am the child of a military man or - ha-HA! me, iron?!? it is to laugh! You be the judge. Each corner and edge of things like sheets and pillowcases must be precisely aligned, the toes of socks must be exactly even before the tops are rolled together, the legs of Alan's jeans must be 100% parallel before being placed on a hanger (at which point the jeans portions on either side of the hanger must be equal) - all of this must happen, or it really, really upsets me. I know - I should seek help.

I took this picture to illustrate a properly folded pillowcase versus an improperly folded pillowcase, and had to re-fold it before I could load the picture and finish blogging. It made me itchy just knowing it was sitting there BEING WRONG.

As long as I'm confessing, I should add that, once the folding is finished, it is OF PARAMOUNT IMPORTANCE that the clothes be placed properly in the drawers. For example, the little rolls of Alan's underpants must be placed with the end of the roll down, so that irregular edges do not show - or I get twitchy. Even though it's not my underwear.

<---- Alan's underpants. But not all of them because some of them are being laundered. BY ME. RIGHT. THIS. MINUTE.