I hate folding clothes. I DETEST folding clothes.
Once, when trying to sell our house, I put baskets of clean laundry in the boot of our car. I drove around for a day or so, with the baskets in the car. We survived.
I am happy to wash clothing. Content to hang out on the clothes line, as no one does it as perfectly as I do. I dislike bringing laundry back in off the line and DETEST sorting, folding and putting away.
It was not always this way. Once, it was just the ironing I hated. My mother would visit and spend hours ironing our clothes. Now, you wear it, you iron it.
I do however, do the laundry for Mr FD, Son and I. I often hang the clothing on airers on the patio, so the “bringing in” is up to the individual. If it is still there next laundry day I will take it in. Son usually collects his, if not, the pile is placed on his bed, unsorted.
Mr FD is altogether more dependent. His clothing is always hanging there longterm. I take it and place it on his side of the bed. At bedtime, he takes the pile and places it about the bedroom. Usually, on top of last week’s pile of clean clothes. Then, he complains he can never find his jocks and someone (Who me?) must be stealing them. Maybe, there is a market in very, very, large undies as tents for backpackers and the homeless… Or head warmers. Mr FD has been sighted wearing his jocks on his bald head in winter. Naked, but undies on bald head. Don’t think about it.
I am okay on putting my underwear away, but sorting clothes is not my forte. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t. I want to…but. Well, if the ironing board is up and I am going to have to iron them, they may as well sit on the ironing board. Except, they don’t all need ironing. Very few items need ironing – even less if I sorted and hung up instantly. Zilch.
If visitors deign to, well, visit, then our bedroom door is closed. The only time this system doesn’t work is when a plumber, or electrician needs access to either bedroom, or ensuite. Then, I avoid the social embarrassment by being at work when they visit, leaving the indignity of it all to Mr FD.
Maybe it is the plumber and electrician stealing his underpants?