Laundry penitence for growing up...

I hate laundry.

I don't mean the usual way that people hate keeping their house together. I genuinely hate laundry with an unholy passion. There is just something about it that makes me mad.

I enjoy unloading the dishwasher. I also actually kinda enjoy mowing. Both of those things are instant gratification where I can readily and easily see the outcome of the work I have put into them. Laundry... well,  laundry notsomuch. The stains I can't get out are reminders I fail at being a true Suzy homemaker, the wrinkles are a flag that I am not always on the very tippy top of the ball that I try to balance on, but mostly there is just something about laundry that makes me wish I had a magic room in my house like when I was a little kid.

Yes, you too had a magic room in your home when you were little... Ya know the room you dropped off your dirty clothes at and the sainted woman ( or even man ) who was in charge of your care would wash, fold, and stack your nasty stinky clothes... no matter what ickiness you got yourself into. For me it's one of the most wonderful selfless loves that someone can have for another, taking care of their nasty laundry.

I love cooking for my family:  dinner, breakfast, unique variations on regular family favorites, candies, baked cookies, pies, & cakes. I love seeing my family dive in and enjoy the food I prepare for them. I get to enjoy the "ohhhh" and "awww" of cooking. I have yet to see anyone jump up and down for you handing them their clean undies. Although for the things I have witnessed being a parent, people really should. Kids do things to and in their clothes, I had no idea could even be possible until I took on the task myself. Of all the crazy advice that I received when I was pregnant about how to be a good mom,  ya know the unsolicited kind that people feel free to tell you just because you have a enormous belly, no one warned me enough about how gross and awful laundry can be.

I hate laundry: the smell, the length of time it takes, sorting, folding, hanging, sorting again, putting away, deciding the perfect cycle for the different temperaments of the clothing, hanging dry the delicates or things that will shrink to oompa loopa sizes if dryed. Truly one of the only things I like about laundry is the moment the warm and fuzzy laundry comes out of the dryer. If I had it my way, I'd crawl into my bed and pile the warm laundry on top of myself and snuggle in for a good nap... but the wrinkles would make me wash the whole pile again. Ugh.

Now don't get me wrong, I am not a fan of the weird swamp like mildew smell laundry gets when you leave it in the washing machine too long before you place it in the dryer. It makes me gag. Sigh. Too bad Ray Bradbury didn't invent a machine that did both. I can leave clean dishes in my dishwasher and my dishes don't get dirty again... but leave your already cleaned laundry in the wash...BAM! Swamp thing has been wearing your socks.

I like wearing clean clothes, hate the idea of my family smelling icky, and don't like the idea of people visually seeing how messy I can be, so I will continue to do laundry; however, let it be known, I hate laundry.