F*#%ing Laundry


A companion piece to F*#%ing Mittens.

For goodness sake. I know how to do it. Really I do. But I just don’t care enough. Or more to the point, I do care, but not as much as I care about things like my children or business or going to bed early so I can read late into the night.

I hate laundry.

The ironic part is that my husband and I sleep in the laundry room. For real. We even had our new bed (my all time favorite thing in the world. Life changing. Get a good bed) delivered and put in the laundry room.  We lay down our weary heads with the dirty clothes because our kids sleep downstairs and for about one more minute, they still call for us at night wanting a snuggle. I know my future. My sons will NOT want their mom in bed with them soon enough, and spooning will be a distant memory. So, for now, we sleep close, in a room with no doors to shut, and laundry absolutely everywhere.

My sons will also never ask me to come visit and do their laundry. Hopefully I can entrench myself into their lives with some other skill. Like fishing.

I really hate laundry.

We get it washed, but not put away. Like pigs we saddle up to the trough every morning to get dressed, picking though the clean-ish pile for something wrinkled to wear.

I fantasize about hiring someone to do my laundry. I imagine that he or she (disclosure, in my fantasy it is always a cute skater type of guy who has nothing to do with laundry clichés, but who cares? He looks great doing my laundry with his tattoos) and just gets it done. It is that simple. I don’t care when or how — I just want it off my radar. And off my floor. And off my bed.

I want to wear things that are white and crisp. I want to never smell like mildew from a load that didn’t get shifted. I want the extras, like dryer sheets and fabric softener.  I want to have matched socks. And soccer shirts or gymnastics uniforms at the ready.

But I don’t want it enough.

My kids are growing up, albeit dirty and rumpled, but growing up nonetheless.  So for now, I will kick it aside, step over it, move it off the stairs and walk right by.  F*#%ing laundry can wait. I have snuggling to do.

Like this blog?  Check out more from one of Missoula’s FAVORITE Mamas About Town, Elke Govertsen: ContactoSummer Feet,  Norman Rockwell’s Got Nothing on Missoula, or  Anywhere but Missoula, MT.  And check out Missoula Children and Nature Network and Active Moms Missoula.

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Bio: Elke Govertsen is the publisher of Mamalode which is a magazine and website for area moms. When not juggling her family, business, and the laundry (disclosure – there is no laundry being done whatsoever), Elke tries to eek out time to write, do yoga, and read like a fiend.