I hate laundry.
Why do I hate laundry? It’s my own clothes. If I want to wear them again, I need to wash them. And I’m sure not going to go without clean socks and underpants.
I’ve tried simply buying new. This is why I have more than 20 pairs of socks, and enough underpants for every day of the month. I’m trying to avoid the inevitable. But the inevitable is of course inevitable. So I drag my laundry basket downstairs, do a quick sort, and start the washer.
I think that part of the reason I hate laundry so much is that I really hate my clothes. I open my closet and there’s just … nothing. Nothing to wear (this is something of an accomplishment, considering how full my closet is). When I sort and wash and fold laundry, I am reminded of how much I hate my entire wardrobe. I have maybe three t-shirts I like, and one pair of pants my arse doesn’t continually expand in, and that’s about it. Something can look amazing on me in the store, but I get it home, and I look like I’m in a fat suit for a movie role. It’s hard to muster up the necessary enthusiasm to launder something I don’t like wearing. It’s hard enough to want to wash the clothes I actually DO like. And when I wash those, all I can think is that each rinse cycle fades that favorite item a little more, and a little more, until my black t-shirt has turned to a nasty sort of puce, and my white polo matches my teeth more than my eyeballs (and for the record, I haven’t bothered with whitening strips in the past five years).
Plus, laundry time is when I notice bad things. A hole in a t-shirt that wasn’t there. The Ragu stain that didn’t come out in the last washing. A line of ink on my pajama pants because I’m always writing in bed. The increasing number of lint balls on my sweater. For some reason, I don’t notice things like that when I get dressed. I only see them when I’m doing laundry.
Some day, I will have enough money to pay someone to do my laundry for me. Failing that, I’ll try to have enough money to buy two or three of my favorites. I’ve already started a little. I have two extra pairs of blue and red crabby socks, and a second navy-and-green striped t-shirt. As long as my favorites are from the clearance rack, I’m all set. And if you’ve ever seen the way I dress, you know that … well, pretty much I’m all set.
Eventually, if I’m rich and famous, I won’t ever do laundry. I’ll buy thirty or forty of things that I like, wear them once, and give them away. It’ll be nice to know that I’m doing my part to kill the earth. I think I’m already on to a good killing start, judging by the amount of polyester I found in my wardrobe the last time I did laundry. In any case, I’m off to a good start with things, I think.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m out of socks.