A week of Christmas: countdown
December 23, 2011
In an effort to overwhelm myself, I shall now write down everything I hope to accomplish or have underway in the next three hours, prior to my parents’ arrival for the festive weekend. I probably have more like four hours, but we’ll see how fast I can go. To provide as soothing an environment as possible, I have commenced my annual listening of the complete Handel’s Messiah. I am actually playing the CDs in my stereo!
To do:
– give the litterbox corner some TLC
– vacuum
– cut up vegetables for supper stir-fry
– straighten up
– clean the bathroom
– bake a loaf of bread
– tape up one side of one window plastic that came unstuck
– a load or two of laundry
– some online banking
Hmm. It doesn’t look like so much it written form. It seemed like more when it was just swirling around in my brainpan.
Hi ho!
Laundry socks, er, sucks
October 9, 2011
I hate doing laundry but at least I have clean socks again. I ran out on Thursday. More specifically, I ran out of white socks. You see, it has been unseasonably mild for a Minnesota early fall. The daily high temperature has been over 80°F/27°C for close to a week. That means it’s still shorts weather, and shorts mean white socks. Fortunately because it’s so warm, I could wear sandals for a couple of days and it wasn’t a big deal. But I’m kind of done wanting to look at my toes for the season, so I’m glad to have clean socks again.
I have enough socks (of all colors) and underwear to keep me going for weeks. I have so much because I hate doing laundry and wish to avoid it as much as possible. I know that in the end, whether I do a load a week or wait until running out of socks and/or underwear finally forces me to do four loads on one day, the amount of laundry is the same. And I don’t even mind the washer and dryer part so much. But I absolutely loath the folding and putting away. There again, if I did more frequent loads it might not seem like such a monumental challenge and I might think more kindly toward it.
But that doesn’t seem to be how my brain works. I will consume a Saturday or Sunday with multiple loads and then fold in the evening while I’m watching a movie or Masterpiece Theater (sorry, PBS, I haven’t gotten used to how you now call it Masterpiece Classic, Masterpiece Mystery, and Masterpiece Contemporary). I feel good because I’m multitasking rather than just sitting and watching the tube.
At least I don’t have to travel to communal laundry room. Shortly after I moved into my condo, someone else moved out and sold me his old Sears Kenmore portable washer and dryer. I wheel the washer over to my kitchen sink and connect a hose to a special faucet attachment and I’m good to go. The dryer vents through a reticulated, wide hose to a box with about an inch of water in the bottom to trap lint and vents on the top to release the air. I like laundry day in the winter because my furnace nor my humidifier have to work as hard.
Having the washer and dryer in my unit saves me from having to pass four doors each way every with every visit to the laundry room. I’m sure my appliances aren’t the most energy efficient, but I sure consider that $50 to be well-spent. I don’t even care about all the quarters I’ve not had to scrounge. I just adore the convenience, since I hate the task.
So that nice, clean pair of socks is now upon my feet, and I’m heading out with toes safely concealed in shoes.
Laundry vs. dishes
December 7, 2009
In my household there is no competition. I keep the dishes done because I don’t want to give the cats (either these two or my previous two) any reason to think that they need to jump on the kitchen counter. Like all good cats, I’m sure they must when I’m not looking.
Laundry, on the other hand, is the bane of my household chore existence. I HATE LAUNDRY. I hate the doing of it, I hate the putting away of it. That’s why I have oodles of socks and underwear—and really, clothes in general; that way I don’t have to do laundry more than once monthly. Since I have to do laundry at all, I am pleased that I can at least accomplish the task inside my own unit. Shortly after I moved in, I bought used (for $50) a portable washer and dryer from a former neighbor who sold his place. It was an excellent investment. I hook the washer up to the kitchen sink, and I have what still seems like a jury-rigged arrangement for venting the dryer inside. But I purpose-bought the “vent” at Home Depot, so it must be okay. It has been for four years, anyway. Although having the machines in my home mitigates some of the distress of the chore, it doesn’t alter the fact that it must still be put away. That’s why clean shirts are draped over the back of a futon chair just waiting for their next wearing (perfect place for that), and for at least half a year, socks and underwear have been plucked from a laundry basket that makes its current home atop the dryer. They may not be put away, but at least they’re clean. I offer no more than that.
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