Culture No. 24: Laundry Day

Here is a little-known, somewhat-believable-if-I-say-it-with-enough-authority fact: trophy wives do their own laundry. We also do our own cooking and errands, although I’m beginning to wonder if the lack of hired hands is more of a NEPA thing and less of a universal maxim. Regardless, Monday is laundry day here on the farm. It is the day when I take all this:

Never one to follow my own rules, I snuck in a few loads on Friday, otherwise there'd be a lot more than this. This isn't too bad for us...

And descend into this hole:

If anyhouse was a candidate for a laundry chute, it would be THIS ONE. I am not looking forward to winter in this department...

Usually while singing this song:

To where our washer and dryer live:

Our basement is always damp, very much not finished and – in addition to the W&D – contains a sump pump that sounds like a cross between a hippopotamus and the nightmare furnace from Home Alone. (It’s located right underneath my desk on the floor above. Rest assured: it was quite the shock the first time I heard it come on.)

I’ll be honest with you: due to a mother who “likes” doing laundry, laundry has never been (or needed to be) my strong suit. I never did it myself until I went to college and I didn’t separate my clothes into whites and darks until my second semester. (When I came home for that first Christmas, Mama V asked, “Why are your white clothes so dingy? Have you been separating them?” To which I replied, “Have I been what?” Please note: that was the semester I started playing rugby, so a lot of my clothes had a very high mud content. It wasn't pretty.)

But I'm learning. Our bottles of stain remover have become my new BFFs and last week I was even brave enough to splash some Clorox in with Bert's undershirts. (It made no noticeable difference, but it made me feel really accomplished - like I was the Emeril of laundry. "BAM! Let's kick it up a notch!")

This week - in true, trophy wife style - I am trying to clean a pair of (formerly) white Ralph Lauren canvas shoes I bought at Salvation Army for $3. I conquered the spaghetti sauce on the shoelaces, but the yellow stains elsewhere are proving a challenge. Which reminds me: time to go soak them in Oxi-clean! A trophy wife's work is never done...