Jedi mind tricks and laundry

I dragged my dirty clothes down the stairs and to the laundromat every week in an effort to be clean and Godly and all that.

I hated every second of it.

One instance in particular stands out in memory.  It was a summer month and upon entering the building I realized the air conditioning was out in the building.  It was a million degrees inside.  It was crowded.  It was LOUD.  People were speaking languages I didn’t understand. 

I called my mother and told her, “it’s official. I am in the seventh circle of hell.”

I stood there, beating my chest like Scarlett O’Hara in Gone with the Wind with all of Atlanta burning behind her, declaring, “As God is my witness, I will never do this again.”  Until I ran out of underwear.  It took about a week and a half. 

It improved slightly after Ismael and I married.  It became our Friday night outing, for I refuse to call it a date.  Late night laundry with refreshments and magazines from the CVS next door.  At least he chose a classier laundromat.

In a recent HBO Special, Kill the Messenger, Chris Rock claims that women will not go backwards in lifestyle.  For instance, once they date a guy with a car, they will never go back to date a guy without one.  Once I saw there were better laundromats, I would consistently drive past the old one, ignoring it like an ex-boyfriend.  I was never going back there.

Once I had an opportunity to get my own washer and dryer and avoid the laundromat altogether, I JUMPED AT IT. 

We moved to a larger apartment.  Ismael wanted a second bedroom.  I required washer and dryer hookups. Nearly everything else was incidental.  Chris Rock is a smart man.  I will never, ever go without my own washer and dryer again.

I thought that when I could do laundry in my own air conditioned home, with my own television, music, or even silence, that I would enjoy it more.

Wrong.

I still hate laundry.  I just get to hate it in the privacy of my own home.

I should clarify, however, it’s not the doing of the laundry that I hate.  I get some weird satisfaction from hearing household appliances grinding away while I sit on the couch.  It’s as close to having a maid as I will ever get.

It’s the folding and putting away of said laundry that I loathe. 

So today, I was standing in the kitchen staring at the mountain of clean laundry, disliking even the thought of hauling it to the bedroom to get started.  

As I pushed the clean laundry into an empty hamper, I pulled out the bathroom towels and folded them.  Wow..the pile was a lot smaller.  I actually do like folding towels.  It’s easy, quick, and they are a huge part of the pile.

Okay, that looked like progress.  I pulled out the kitchen towels and the bibs, because after all I was standing in the kitchen.  Folded and put away, bing, bam, boom.

The hamper of remaining clothes was only half full.  I was so relieved that I didn’t mind folding the rest.

Evidently, if I just fold various articles in different rooms, I trick myself into thinking I barely folded any laundry at all.

Sometimes I am amazed at my own ridiculousness. 

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