Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘dirty clothes’

The other day something disastrous happened: I got to the very bottom of the laundry baskets – which meant all the dirty laundry in the house was clean. “Well done, you”, some might say, patting me on the back in that patronising way that suggests they’re about to call me “The Little Lady” to my face. But there’s nothing “well done” about it because, let me tell you now, it puts me in a difficult situation. A very difficult situation indeed.  

What most people don’t realise is that in a house as well-organised as mine, the laundry baskets are actually an integral part of an elaborate storage system for clothes – along with the pile next to the master bed and those clothes stuffed down the side of the change table. We simply don’t have enough cupboard and drawer space in our house to comfortably accommodate all the clothes we own. And if they’re all clean and dried, you suddenly run the risk of having tall teetering piles of clean folded tshirts topple over and getting trampled underfoot (and under-sticky-foot at that) and having to be washed again, without being worn. I mean, with my three children and my load-a-day habit, I already run the risk of depleting the state’s already-dwindling water supplies without washing clothes that haven’t actually been worn. 

This is where having piles of dirty clothing around the house comes into its own. You see, it doesn’t matter what happens to them – they can be deployed in the construction of nests or mountain ranges in the kids’ rooms, used to wipe up the bird shit from the trampoline or even vomitted, pissed and shat on and it Does Not Matter: they are already dirty. Perfect!

Luckily, such crises are rare in my house. In so many ways, I’m blessed to have a child like The Pixie, who is often busier than a Japanese Bride with all of her changing of outfits every hour on the hour- even her underpants have to be changed. Tiddles, too, with his “Living Brush” approach to painting, food and clothing, also does his bit to avert a crisis. And then we have those delightfully halcyon nights with the kids where we churn through every clean set of bed clothes, towels and pyjamas faster than you can say “gastroenteritis”.

You might wonder, with all these things working in my favour, how I came to be in a crisis situation at all. Well, every now and then, there is an extremely rare event – perhaps even rarer than a total eclipse of the sun and certainly rarer than an Adam Sandler film that I would pay money to see – where high motivational levels coincide with a freak succession of sunny days. So at the end of the day, there’s no real need for panic – although crapping my own dacks in this situation surely could only help.

Read Full Post »