I had been defeated and humiliated. Therefore, I have now broken our truce. While struggling to fight back and defend myself despite my apparent failure, a fresh idea occurred which has undeniably brought some semblance of order to our laundry-raided home.
Having decided to utterly defy the traditional and widely-accepted four-part process of: wash, dry, fold and put away, an entire subversive system has emerged in it´s stead. Under this new apparatus, I now operate.
For example, when my boys ask me for clean underpants, I confidently direct them to the drier, where the whites have been reposing silently for days. When my daughter exclaims that she needs socks for school, I instruct her to rummage through the heap of clean socks strategically placed on the floor next to my bedside night table. My other daughter asks about her clean jeans and I calmly respond that they are in Basket Number 3, which is on “stand by” waiting to be folded.
Yes, as you can plainly see, it is not at all about the laundry, that has me all hot and bothered. It is ultimately a control issue and the clothes washing is merely a manifestation of my “issue.”
To give you a brief background, upon relocating back to the United States seventeen months ago, I came to a heart-wrenching and sickening realization. Without my underpaid domestic goddesses there to assist me, I would have to give up my orderly and tidy home to some degree. The laundry, the bane of my existence, enthusiastically stood up and volunteered to “go astray.” I didn´t want to let it go easily, so I tried to keep a few steps ahead of the game washing and drying several loads a day. But she is such a devious and conniving chore and always found ways to reproduce loads faster than a pack of rats.
So, what is my ultimate revenge, you ask? How do I find peace of mind today and preserve my sanity? By successfully functioning in this newfound “laundry underworld,” I am giddy with naughtiness as I disobey the conventional system.