Every week we have the same laundry ritual at my house. Michael dumps his dirty laundry in the living room floor. Usually it is around 9 p.m when I have no chance of getting it done before bedtime.
I survey the pile and begin the task of meticulously sorting. Socks that were tucked inside each other are separated, clothes that are inside out are reversed and the dog usually spends a few minutes rolling around in Michael’s basketball “scented” items.
After each load is washed and dried I sort them in to piles according to the item. All t-shirts are Gap folded (you know how they fold them at the Gap so you can see the logo), socks mated, jeans folded and his hoodies are hung up to dry so they won’t shrink.
Now comes the fun part. Instead of taking them down to his room he comes up every morning , drops his towel and retrieves his daily ensemble from the couch of clothes. This goes on for several day until I throw a hissy fit and make him take them down stairs. Until the hissy fit actually occurs he begins his day with a fun game I like to call laundry Jenga.
Laundry Jenga is when he tries to pull the item he needs out of the folded stack of clothes. If he is very careful he can get the middle shirt without disrupting the entire pile. If he isn’t successful then the pile falls over and all my work is for nothing.
The problem with this game is that he is the one playing and I am the one that is losing. Laundry Jenga is the reason my right eye twitches and I have to have my hair colored every four weeks. For the life of me I can not understand why he can’t just take them downstairs. In the privacy of his man cave he could play laundry Jenga all he wanted.
So each week we play this game. Each week my hair turns a little whiter and he looks at me during my hissy fit like I have lost my mind. So if one day you arrive at my home and I am sitting in the corner clutching a box of Gain and staring off into the distance you will know I finally cracked. One too many rounds of laundry Jenga will do that to a person.