Life in the Laundry Room

I just finished vacuuming the sand out of my washing machine, yet another reason my laundry room is an excellent site for an archaeological dig.

The washing machine was full of sand because, once again, it is RAINING, and my son played his football game tonight in the pouring rain. Which means his uniform and accessories were full of sand and mud, more than the machine could process in one cycle. So I've vacuumed and wiped and now round number two is under way.

I don't know why I can not win the fights with the laundry. I really am good about washing, drying, folding and hanging. Unfortunately, I'm not very good about putting the clean stuff away.

Using oil and gas industry terms, I have "cushion gas" or "line pack" in my laundry room - a base layer of stuff that always stays in the laundry room, its presence forcing me to keep the rest of the clothes moving along. It includes the lone socks, spare towels, lay flat to dry items - all those things that are going to get put up "next time." But the next time I already have a basketful of the current load and so the extra items stay put.

It doesn't help that I have a five drawer lateral file cabinet full of client files in the room, too, including stacks of files waiting to go in the drawers once the laundry is out of the way. Or that the laundry room is soccer central for all things uniform. And of course what better place to store the sewing machine and all the sewing supplies and the wrapping paper and ribbons and bags and the cat box and the cat food and the roomba and ........ you get the idea.

The few times I have my laundry room clean and empty are golden. I tend to just stand in the doorway and gaze, knowing how brief the moment will last.

But I have no one to blame but myself. I may not do many things traditional, but laundry is my duty by choice. I have a near photographic memory for washing instructions and stains. I know what needs special attention, what items mix together well in a load and how to time it so that the last load only has items that don't have to be folded, so it can finish drying after I go to bed.

For years and years my desperate husband would try to help me out during my busy times by doing some laundry. But no matter how careful he was, something would slip through the cracks and end up shrunk or permanently stained. So he does the grocery shopping, I do the laundry.

Sometime in the next week or so I will get the room under control again. I will put absolutely everything away, clean the floor and the washer and the dryer and the countertop. Maybe I'll even throw away the lone socks and spare towels and the extra hangers. It's a nice thought. But for now, time to go move a load.