Ok, so I know “laundry” is an American phrase but lets face it – “The Neverending Washing” just doesn’t have the same ring to it (neither does “The Neverending Trip To The Hills Hoist”).
Yet another basket full of unfolded washing leers at me from the corner as I type… How is it that the addition of one single being to the family unit brings untold additions to the clothes washing department? I swear, when hubster and I were footloose and fancy free DINKs, we did one, maximum two loads of washing each week. Suddenly this has morphed into washing pretty much every day (or doing four loads in one day when one falls behind ones washing schedule…). I’ll admit I partly brought this on myself with the decision to mostly cloth nappy Mr 3 when he was younger (a decision I stand by and would choose again if needs be), but come on, the little dude is now only wearing one nappy overnight. Where are these misshapen piles of dirty clothes appearing from? Are there some kind of elves wreaking revenge for the slave labour brought upon their brothers by the shoe maker and his wife??
The mind boggles…
Further to this, how do washing machines (and owners of said washing machines) that reside in houses where there are large numbers of people co-habitating actually survive without blowing a fuse (I’m talking about the washing machine owners there). How is there even enough time in the UNIVERSE to complete such momentous amounts of washing? So many unanswered questions.
Meanwhile, if you need me, I’ll be the one buried under a pile of unfolded washing frantically waving my hand to attract help. Please save me.