I don't hate laundry...

...and yet I do it so rarely. I'm not entirely sure WHY. I enjoy the smell of clean laundry. I like clean clothes. However, lucky as I am to have a washer and dryer in my apartment building, anyone who has ever had to do the "load your basket up, walk outside, unlock the gate, unlock the door to the basement" dance to get to their laundry room knows that it can be a pain in the ass. (Yes, if you asked me right now, my dream home could be 600 square feet so long as there was a washer and dryer IN UNIT.)

However, today, a rare unplanned weekend day, has been full of domestic delights. I watched a documentary on Netflix (The Wild and Wonderful Whites of West Virginia...watch it, it's really fascinating), then got down to business. I walked to the laundromat from hell, got $8 in change, then started my laundry.

I have actually been VERY cleverly avoiding doing my laundry for the better part of six weeks. No, I do not have that extensive of a wardrobe. And no, I don't re-wear my clothes (well...other than jeans and the usual suspects). I have a secret weapon. P.I.C. He tends to remain on top of his laundry. Whenever he mentions he's going to do a load or two, I simply ask, "Heyyyy, honey. Can I throw a couple of things in with yours?" Naturally, he says yes. For six weeks, this has pretty much how I have avoided doing my own laundry. Some shirts here...gym clothes there. He has done it. WITHOUT COMPLAINT.

What is even better is that he doesn't really nag at me about how my laundry begins to take over our bedroom. Understandably so, six weeks without a full laundry session will result in quite the treacherous terrain in one's bedroom. Ours is no exception. I will full on trip over it as I attempt to enter my walk in closet. In fact, last night I had to CLIMB over a mountain of dirty clothes to get into bed. Seriously. When P.I.C. suggested that we clean a bit this weekend, given our busy two weeks looming, I told him that I would take care of it while he went into the office for a bit today. Really, that just meant that he was kindly suggesting that I take care of the laundry issue in our bedroom.

AND GUESS WHAT? It is NEARLY done. After one snafu of me attempting to just use our spare sheets we bought for our guest room on our bed (and a rather sweaty struggle before admitting defeat: they did not fit our bed), I had to run BACK to the laundromat to get more quarters. After stripping the bed of our old sheets, and I had NO SHEETS to put on the bed, I knew I had to wash them. Sigh. Almost done. (In unrelated news, we still have sheets available for purchase on our registry for wedding gifts, friends...please??)

So. Yes, I am so smooth I can get P.I.C. to do my laundry. However, I broke down and did my own today. $10 worth of clean clothes are now in their proper places in my apartment. Ya know what? I also let P.I.C. throw some of his stuff in there. It's only fair, right?

Wow. At the rate I'm going, the next time I will really need to do laundry I will be a married woman. Then he's legally OBLIGATED to help me. Right? I gotta go. I have to work that into my vows somehow.

Happy Sunday, all!