There Is A Snake In My Laundry

by Lisa Boone, Vice President of Wealth Management, The Atlanta Capital Group, Citi Smith Barney

October 30, 2008

A s I sat down in the middle of a sleepless night to fold the pile of laundry that was consuming the sofa in my bedroom, I felt a piercing stab to my right butt cheek.  Had I left that “clean pile” for so long that a snake had taken up residence between the t-shirts and dish towels?  No, just a pair of manicure scissors.  Sharp ones.

Cursing at the endless chores I was unsuccessfully managing, I staggered to the bathroom to examine my bleeding rear end.  Thank goodness I would only have to explain my wound to my teenage daughters and perhaps a girlfriend or two over a bottle of wine – all of whom would have a great laugh at my expense.

At that point, I hated every working woman who had it all together and seamlessly managed every aspect of her busy life.  Secretly though, I suspected that somewhere in her orderly little house there was a closet full of snakes.  Either that or she had so much money she paid people to do all her mindless, thankless chores.

Somehow I had to get a handle on laundry.  It was my nemesis.  The idea of folding clothes nearly made me nauseas.  Perhaps a business plan was necessary, where I elicited the help of my business partners, (the two teenage girls, one of whom probably left the manicure scissors in the laundry) so that we could take  the process  to a higher level – a more efficient, manageable and enjoyable household duty!  Okay, skip the enjoyable part.

Rather than tackle the mountainous pile, I chose to cover it with a king size sheet – something I have also been known to do with dishes in the sink – and go back to bed while vowing to get a handle on my laundry snakes.  I would research what the Martha Stewart’s of the world suggested we working mothers do to better manage our wifely duties. 

One source that came to mind was Good Housekeeping .  So I Googled the topic and was taken to an article titled “ The Good Wife’s Guide,” dated May 13, 1955.  Among other poignant wifely commands, it said I should “prepare the children” (for my husband’s arrival home).  Take a few minutes to wash the children’s hands and faces, comb their hair, and if necessary, change their clothes.  They are little treasures, and he would like to see them playing the part.  Minimize the noise.  At the time of his arrival, eliminate all noise of the washer, dryer or vacuum.  Try to encourage the children to "be quiet.”

My plan did not include quiet.  In fact, if my efficiencies were to work, I had to have all the household appliances running at the same time– the washer, dryer, computer, television, Cuisinart, dishwasher and microwave oven.  I would skip the vacuum—another nemesis to be discussed another time.

June Cleaver I was not, nor ever wanted to be, so my modern working mother tips for managing the laundry became:

 


If It’s Not in the Laundry Room, It Doesn’t Get Washed
When a favorite pair of jeans went missing for a few months, an all out search discovered they were in an old laundry hamper in one of the girls’ closets.  Rule #1: If you want it cleaned, then you take it to the laundry room.  I don’t make the rounds to every hamper in every room anymore.

Three Hampers – Do It Yourself
Hamper A gets the whites, Hamper B the darks and Hamper C the sheets and towels.  Dirty clothes must find their way in to their respective hamper if they have any hope of finding their way out cleaner than they went in.  Word of caution:  stinky soccer socks are best left on the tile floor in a designated location so the lace bras and panties don’t take on an unwanted aroma or texture.

The Laundry Room Is A Dressing Room, Sort Of
I figured, “why wash, dry, fold and deliver upstairs the two things my children wear every day –underwear and school uniforms.”  So, we added to the laundry room some bins with colored fabric baskets to hold the daily necessities of two teens – bras, panties and socks.  Above the bins hang the shirts and skirts they wear to school everyday.  Voila!  From the dryer to the bin and the hanger… bet we’re the only house on the block with a full length mirror in the laundry dressing room.

A Folding Party?
A few times a week we gather in my bedroom at the scene of the snake attack and have a folding party.  I’m allowed a big girl beverage, the girls a drink or snack of their choice, and we fold and fold and fold until we can see the sofa again.  The conversation between us during this time of bonding has been remarkable, and somehow the chore has become less so. 

Did I tell you about the handsome chore boy I now have to transport the clean and folded clothes upstairs to the girls’ bedrooms…