Monday, March 2, 2009

Observation From a New Bachelor

Mrs. Abbey has been away now for a dozen days and I have come to some conclusions. Doing laundry is a lot like cooking. When you have a level cup full, in this case a basket full of laundry, you carry it downstairs and start the base. You get the two main ingredients going, in this case water and liquid soap (I hope that is what it was and not a crap load of fabric softener), and turn the dial to full load because face it, I wouldn’t be doing laundry if I didn’t have a full load. Now if Mrs. Abbey is reading this and isn’t banging her head against a wall in the Philippines, don’t read this next sentence. Dump everything into the pot/tub at this point. You don’t sort out your white noodles from the colored noodles. You don’t treat your white beans differently from your colored beans. You are a true equal opportunity laundry kind of person. It all goes in together. The one advantage to laundry over cooking is that with laundry, you have automatic stirring so as Ron Popeil says, set it and forget it. Forget it is what I did and so I wasn't disturbed until a couple days later when I grab the last pair of skivvies from the drawer. I switched the almost dried clothes from the pot/tub to the oven/dryer. I don’t like waiting for food to cook when I’m hungry so drying clothes is no different. I turn the temperature to hot and walk away knowing that unlike cooking, a dryer never overcooks, unless it malfunctions but that wouldn’t happen to me. I hope. Hours later, after you discover your clothes have finished cooking/drying, you carry them back upstairs and then and only then do you sort them. The wrinkled beyond repair go back in the basket to try again in another twelve days and the salvageable clothes go on the hangers or in the drawers. I mean who besides Mrs. Abbey would care if my skivvies were wrinkled?

12 comments:

geri said...

When I get back to Chicago I expect Tom's drawer of skivvies would look like it has been bombed.

TC said...

This is cute, but begs the question - how many years has it been since you WERE last a bachelor? I mean, shouldn't some of these things still be easy to remember how to do? :)

Murf said...

Why would you re-wash something just because it is wrinkled? Throw it back into the dryer. Also, I'm sure you have been married long enough where she doesn't care if your panties are wrinkled. She's just happy that you're wearing some. :-)

Murf said...

Oh...to answer your question, TC...Ed is blonde. :-)

The Real Mother Hen said...

I actually don't separate colors, material, type etc. Who cares?! (All real women must be giving me a mafia look now!)
I put everything in but run on cold water (because I'm cheap!) and I use only a THIRD of what they say in the box of detergent (because I am not a coal miner and my clothes aren't that dirty)... I half dry them in the dryer then hang them up, again because I'm cheap!

And guess what, I survive :)

Ed Abbey said...

Geri - My drawer of skivvies probably looks the best of all.

TC and Murf - A lot of this post was written tongue in cheek. I'm not as clueless as I let on.

Mother Hen - I'm going to get you to testify to Mrs. Abbey when she gets back about the separation thing.

TC said...

I figured as much :)

Beau said...

Hmmm... isn't that how everybody does laundry? I almost washed the cat a few weeks ago... fell in with everything else, and as I closed the lid I heard a plaintive "Meow..." I think it liked it in there.

Murf said...

I know...but I bet you don't separate your clothes into as many piles as the Mrs. does.

Ed Abbey said...

Murf - The separation part was true. It all goes in the same pot.

R. Sherman said...

Ed, my wife discovered my post on the same topic some months ago.

She was pissed for a solid three days, until I pointed out that it was only because of a blog post and not the condition of the laundry itself which caused her to discover the truth.

She had to think about that.

Cheers.

PhilippinesPhil said...

Maybe next year I'll buy a real honest to God washer instead of the plastic piece of doodoo I have now.