Tag Archives: laundry

So many questions!

Gerald said something to me this morning, and I may have overreacted, maybe a tad. It’s just that nothing gets my hormonal crazies stirred up better than the following questions from my family —

–Did you do a load of whites? <–This was this morning’s question and it was not met with a pleasant response. Let’s see, Gerald, sure, I squeezed in washing and drying your precious tighty-whities* between church, grocery store, and cooking up some meals for the week, finally calling it a night (and totally exhausted) by around 10pm. No, I did not do a load of whites. I did a bunch of laundry loads on Saturday, but since no one seems to appreciate the sweat and tears I put into running this household, I guess it wasn’t noticed!

–Are you going to get ready for bed? <–Do I look like I’m getting ready for bed? I just sat down after being in the kitchen for hours, and I just want to vegetate for a while. That, and it takes me forever and a day to get ready for bed so I tend to put it off as long as possible. I’ve done this bedtime procrastination long before Gerald, but now my dawdling is justified. I really am beat after so much run-around and I just want to relax for a bit.

–Are you going to the grocery store? <–I can’t stand grocery shopping. It’s one of those things where it’s not so bad once I’m there and I’m doing it, but just like how I put off my bedtime routine, I stall my grocery trip for as long as possible. But boy how it pisses me off when I’m asked. I’ve only been trying to compile my list for hours now wanting fellow house dweller input but they’re too busy, you know, watching TV or something. So yes, I’ll eventually get to the store, but nobody better say a thing about anything I may have forgotten or didn’t get just right. If you have such a problem then go to the damn store yourself!

–Are you going to do your workout? <–Really? I’m pretty sure this question is up there with a man’s hesitant response to the “Does this dress make me look fat?” question. Translation in a woman’s head: I’m fat. Why the need to ask if I’m going to do my workout? Are you saying I look like I need to workout, Gerald? Have I put on a little extra poundage? Well, maybe I have, but I’m already feeling pretty lousy about it, and I don’t need all the interrogation! And I’m not sure when I’m going to find the time to do my workout, what, with all the laundry and grocery shopping.

I realize Gerald’s questions are most likely innocent inquiries; he wants an idea of happenings around the house and of my schedule so he is able to plan accordingly. But you would think after all these years of marriage, he would have caught on to the woman’s psyche by now. I suppose woman will forever be a mystery to the male species.

Runner-up questions (Pretty sure there’s no need for description):
–Where is my insert whatever object you can think of here?
–Do you have money?

*Okay, Gerald doesn’t really wear tighty-whities. The use of the term “tighty-whities” in this post is for demonstration purposes only.


The red pile

With all the recent hubbub about 50 Shades of Grey, I thought I’d write about how Christian Grey’s red room is not unlike my red pile. If you haven’t read the 50 Shades books or seen the 50 Shades movie, the red room, sometimes referred to as the red room of pain, is well… it’s where… umm… it’s where all the S&M stuff occurs between Christian and Anastasia. There, I said it with a simple acronym so I didn’t really have to come out and say it. Now if you don’t know what S&M stands for, let me just say, Google with caution (i.e., For Pete’s sake, don’t Google S&M at work).

While the 50 Shades’ Anastasia character is all enthralled with Christian’s red room of pain, I get to experience the shrill thrill of the red pile of pain. What is the red pile you ask? That would be one of my (many) laundry piles separated by color, material stamina, and label instructions. Yep, the secret is out, I have a red pile. The red pile is made up of clothes with red, pink, orange, fuchsia, magenta, etc. shades (50 shades of red, anyone??).

Does anyone else have a red pile?
Does anyone else have a red pile?

So how do I figure the red room and red pile have anything in common? Let’s explore, shall we?

Both are associated to pain. I’ll refrain from including anything about pain and the red room, but if you’re the one in your household who is tasked with doing the laundry, yes, it’s a pain! I’d say pain in the ass, but then we’re getting way too close to the red room discussion. Oh, whoops, did I just say it anyway?

Both are associated to pleasure. I know, I’m pushing it, but I’m figuring you can get pleasure out of ensuring your family’s clothes are clean. <–Did I just write this??

You just want to get it over with. I’m making the assumption of course that you’d just want to get it over with in the red room. Right? Right? Someone tell me if I’m right.

I’m sure there’s 50 shades of somthin’ somthin’ going on in the red room, while there are definitely 50 shades of red going on in the red pile. See? I don’t need no stinking 50 shades of grey.

They’re both dirty. After messing with either one of them, you really want to get out the hand sanitizer.

Their presence just looms, no matter how hard you try to forget about it, or if you attempt to lock it up tight or hide it.

If an item were to escape from either, embarrassing moments are likely. Red room: Mom, what is this whip thing? Red pile: Mom! My white shirt is now pink!!

Maybe you think you’re done with it, but you have to keep going back for more. Anastasia keeps going back for more. And somehow, someway, the red laundry pile always comes back.

See? I’m not even missing out on the movie experience. I have my own form of “red” pain right here at home.