13 October 2011

The never-ending laundry cycle.

Dirty laundry.

It's always there, no matter how valiantly I struggle to eradicate it.

And even in those rare moments, like right now, when the only dirty clothes are the ones we're wearing, there is a metric fuckton of clothing in various stages of the laundry cycle.

Most is packed away, hidden in the proper cupboards/closets/drawers. Thank heaven for small favors, right?

There is still an obscene amount of shit to be ironed. I'd do it right now, while I'm alone and it's quiet, but there is a whole week's worth of outfits hanging out to dry, and they will all need ironing too.

I only bring this up because it is that time of year again: hunting season.

What the fuck does hunting have to do with laundry, you ask?

Let me backtrack a bit for you.

When we moved into this magic bus, folks made bets on how long it would be before Wayne had to buy a trailer to tow behind the bus to hold all of my clothes and shoes. I should have gotten in on that action.

Because Mr. Sunshine has exactly 4.3 metric fucktons more clothes than I do.

There are the summer work clothes, the summer not-work clothes, the summer pig-hunting clothes, the winter work clothes, the winter not-work clothes, and the winter deer-hunting clothes. Don't forget all of the different leather garments one needs when one owns a Harley.

It is deer hunting season. Which means multiple layers to insulate against the slight chill in the air that feels downright cold when one is sitting absolutely still.

So my laundry problem just grew. Exponentially.

I am exhausted and all I have done today is get the laundry most of the way through the laundry process.

Good thing I'm on a four day weekend.



  1. I also hate laundry with the fire of a thousand suns. Thank baby cheebus, Mr. Took doesn't mind doing laundry. He does it WAY more often than I do!

  2. Took, how did you train him to do that? I would pay to know this.