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Laundry for Two.

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Boyface and I have been living together for almost a year (when did THAT happen?) and I’m happy to say things are going well. Not all of the chores have been perfectly split up due to travelling and class schedules but a line has been drawn in the sand for a few things.

He’s in charge of watering plants. We have a small garden plot and while I love its location in relativity to our neighbor’s plot, I don’t love how far away from the spigot and hose it is. I find the hose bulky and hard to manage. When it comes to watering the plants on the balcony, I’m always pretty terrified bugs are going to crawl out of the watering jug when I pick it up. Probably because one in five times something does and I squeak and shiver like a little girl, drop the water and run. It’s humiliating and I don’t believe in getting my heart-rate up when watering plants.

I do laundry. I gather, sort, and fold. I try to avoid carrying the load to and from the laundry room but with how often my darling has been away on business lately, I haven’t been left with much of a choice. I recently realized how accustomed I’ve gotten to doing his and hers laundry.

First of all, our dirty laundry is about 80% in the dirty laundry bin and then I have to decipher among the clothes on the floor or laying on the cabinet, etc. what else will qualify for the wash. It amazes me how much dirty laundry makes it IN FRONT of the hamper, but not in. There’s not even a lid on it. Since when does putting laundry on the side of hamper, half-in and half-out, mean it’s not dirty yet? Well, honey, I’m sure it wasn’t dirty when you put it there but when you put something half into a hamper of clothes that are dirty…this article of clothing becomes dirty by association. Right?

What about the laundry you’re not sure about? Ever do the sniff test? I do. I picked it up from my mom. This involves picking up a questionable item that may be eligible for a washing and sniffing it. I always try to sniff in the spot most likely to smell the worst. Usually the result is, “eh, this can go for another round” and sometimes it’s, “yikes.” Granted, this was when I only washed my clothes.

I will not forget the moment I first accidentally sniff tested a shirt my love had worked out in. Not because I don’t want to forget it but because I don’t think I could if I tried. I didn’t even think twice about it, snatched the t-shirt hanging from the corner of the door and took a big whiff. Honestly, I thought I was going to pass out. I had not braced myself.

A year later, have I stopped? Nope. Does the occasional, lottery-winner sniff test still make me queasy? Not at all, not even a little bit. I’ve grown accustomed to my new normal, laundry and all. It was this realization the other day while hunting and gathering our laundry that reminded me how at home I feel with my sweetheart.  And folks, that’s love.

 



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