It's Not a Commercial

So lookie here,  Blogger is back up and running. Convenient as I am no longer my hormonally induced alter-ego.  Just plain old me again.  And plain old me is currently doing laundry.  It feels as though I've been doing laundry for two days straight.  Oh wait, that's because I have.

My husband is beating his high score on Solitaire on his Blackberry.

Well that's not fair, he did some yard work this weekend; made our patio presentable for company for our four year old's birthday party.  He washed our vehicles, he coaches ball four nights a week.  I am not ragging on him.  I am just bitter about the laundry.

I hate our laundry room.  Mine is not the one of Tide/Gain/Sunlight, etc. commercials. It is not all white and gleaming and filled with windows and sunshine and me in a pair of white slacks and a crisp button down shirt.  Mine is in the basement.  Concrete. Litter box.  Storage area. 

The litter box is really the piece de resistance (I would put accents on this but am not that technically advanced).  My cat refuses to pee in the litter box.  She prefers to perch in it or on the edge and shoot urine straight out onto the floor and surrounding area.  I've seen her do it.  She's nearly 10 and has been doing this for a few years now.  The area is sealed off with plastic to try and prevent the delicate stench of cat piss from permeating our the concrete floor.  There is a puppy pad to soak up some of the overspill.  It's not a litter box.  It's a litter 'area'.

So when I'm doing laundry, there are no gentle breezes floating in from the open window ruffling my perfectly coiffed hair.  There is me, often in sweats, sports bra and over sized t-shirt, trying not to breathe through my nose.  I change loads, 'Shout' the crap out of anything my seven year old wears and then once that is done, I get to scooping poop, disinfecting the litter area and putting out a fresh puppy pad.  There is no sunshine.  There is a hose running from the water heater to the drain in an effort to clean the sediment out of it so we can again have hot water for longer than 10 minutes at a time.

So I think it's clear why I hate laundry.  Never mind there are 76 fucking steps to getting it done.  Sorting, stain treatment, washing, hanging to dry, drying, folding and putting away.  And for what?  To do it all again, usually less than a full week later.  Sometimes I long for the sort of slovenly attitude that would let me revel in filth.  That wouldn't mind if my children went to school in dirty clothes with dirty fingernails and seven days worth of scum on their teeth.  It seems like it would be easier.  They could call me "Mama" and  we could learn our alphabets together.

Instead, I prefer they and I to be clean.  I don't like wrinkled clothes, dirty fingernails or scummy teeth.  I read.  They read.  And what do we have to show for it?  A cat that runs the laundry room with her unusual bathroom habits. 

Although, I do believe, after the last two days, one could bounce a quarter off of my hind quarters given we live in a two storey house, the laundry room is in the basement and all of the bedrooms, with the exception of one, are on the second floor.  I have done roughly 40 flights of stairs since yesterday at noon.  So yes, my legs and ass are in fine condition.  It's not doing anything for my "trouble area" though.  Still required to suck in if/when awake.  This might have something to do with rewarding myself with chocolate, salt water taffy, pretzels, etc for each completed load.

Don't judge me.  You do laundry for yourself, your husband, your two teenage children (which is really just the same as doing laundry for two more adults), and a seven year old who for the life of him cannot stay on his feet-the grass and dirt call to him-he must slide, first base or not, and a four year old (no explanation necessary).  You'd reward yourself too.  Maybe with one of those goddamned bubble baths the magazines get all worked up about, but that's not for me.  My eczema will flair up and I will then be forced to acknowledge my body in all it's naked glory and haven't I been through enough?

Time to go switch loads....