An ode to Laundry.

Oh laundry how I detest thee.

You stink. You smell.

You make me yell.

You procreate behind closed doors

And in the middle of the floor.

You collect into piles with the wet towel hiding in the middle

spreading BO to everything.

Oh laundry how I detest thee.

You simply disgust me.

The end.

Laundry and I are mortal enemies. It continues to wage battle at me. I continue to throw laundry detergent on it. I wash, I dry, I fold. I sort and put away. I leave piles of clean, folded laundry for each child. When I see it on the floor, that clean, folded laundry, I sport a second head and the voice of the devil telling them to “PUT IT AWAY PROPERLY!” And my oh my help them if they throw clean laundry into the dirty bin rather than put it away. That is a sin of epic proportion.

Where does all the laundry come from? This is a math problem. I can deal with that – BS in applied mathematics and all. If six people wear one outfit a day, take one shower a day, and wear one pair of socks a day how many loads of laundry should there be?

17. Yes. The answer is 17.

It’s geometry with the answer residing in separate yet intersecting planes causing the laundry to multiple at exponential rates. And the above load of crap brings the load total to 18.

So I’m off. To rotate the laundry as we say here in my lair. And to fold fitted sheets perfectly and shove them in a corner where no one can appreciate my genius skills. After this load we’ll be down to 19 loads to complete.

Until tomorrow when there’s 221.

EJ out – to sort some dirty socks.