laundry day

 

It’s almost laundry day.  Laundry weekend really.  Scott and I recently struck a deal.  I’m in charge of dishes and he handles all laundry.  I’m certain I got the better end of the stick here. 

I’ve long since given up control in this area.  If Scott washes a hand washable or dry clean only item now, I realize I had no right owning something so delicate in the first place.  I still chuckle when I recall when he spilled beer on his tie at a wedding and decided it needed a good wash.  This was too funny.  The tie was about six feet long and in shreds as he pulled it out of the laundry basket.  “Cheap tie”. 

Scott really doesn’t believe in sorting laundry either.  He’ll do a load with my white scrubs and the boys backpacks, his Fed Ex shirts and maybe a pair of poop undies from those of us still working on potty training.  I try not to stand too close to any other students at clinicals fearing it will be all too obvious that my pants are now gray.  Consequently, I don’t really have any white clothes, some shades of light pink and varying degrees of gray, but no white. 

I am getting better at emptying my pockets now.  Scott has washed multiple cell phones over the years, my stethoscope recently and a small fortune in coins and one dollar bills.  As a general rule, disposable diapers create major problems in the washer and should be avoided.  It’s actually more of an issue for the dryer leaving permanently attached white fuzz on everything.  Other items that don’t fare as well in the dryer are crayons, Carmex, and packets of peanut butter. 

I’m sizing up the giant pile spilling out of the laundry room into the kitchen right now and estimating that Scott’s got about eight to nine loads waiting for him.  On the other hand I have about four loads of dishes laughing at me right now so I best get going.