I have an aversion to doing laundry.
That’s an understatement. I detest doing laundry. I wait until I have no clean…. well, you can imagine what that might be, then I am forced to deal with eight thousand loads to do, which in turn reinforces my loathing for the chore, and I wait until it is a nearly emergency situation again. It is a cyclical pattern which feeds into itself. I am powerless against it.
This time, we have reached crisis mode. I have scraped the bottom of the barrel when it comes to underthings.
If I had learned only one thing from my time in Costa Rica, it was that there is no shame in doing your laundry by hand. Unless, of course, you live in a city where you can find reliable washing and drying facilities within a few blocks in any direction. Then, it’s just sad.
Today I put my pride on the shelf, filled the bathtub with warm soapy water, and proceeded to wash every piece of underwear I own. That’s A LOT of underwear. The washing was not the difficult part- tedious, but not difficult. It was the drying. Hastily seeking a way to hang it all, I found some thick hemp string I had laying around, and Cat’s Cradle strung it around my bathroom- which I have already coined “the smallest bathroom on the planet”.
My bathroom now looks like some smutty spider has taken up residence. And I have photos to prove it. I really wanted to post the photos, just to prove how ridiculous the skivvy monstrosity is, but after some consideration decided it was probably best not to display my unmentionables on the internet, for every Joe Schmoe to gawk at.
Instead, I will leave you with this likeness, which is not all together that different from the state of affairs that has taken over my lavatory.
I think it’s time I buck up and head to the local Wash-O-Matic.