Revenge of the Laundry
by Andrea Rennick
I prefer my revenge to be warm, and with laundry. Fitting, that, as it is usually laundry that is the crux of any wrongdoing deep enough to keep my brain cells occupied long enough to do something about it.
You see, often there is laundry in various stages strewn about the bedroom. Sometimes it is strewn about the house as well. Clean laundry could be anywhere, anywhere sensible should one choose to look, like in a laundry basket waiting to be folded, or on the chair by the bed even. Right next to the dresser. So should one be stumbling around in the wee hours of morning looking for work clothes, they usually aren’t far. And if, by chance, there are no longer any pairs left of the favorite style of underwear, I was certain there were more (albeit slightly less stylish but still clean) pairs of underwear left in the top drawer.
Aside from clean laundry, I would like to point out that certain family members like to hold on to some items of clothing that have been worn for a short time and are not quite clean enough to go back in the drawer, but not quite dirty. These are left hanging over the back of a chair or laid out on the bed, eventually finding their way to the floor. Sometimes they ooze their way over to the pile of dirty clothes, also on the floor. Right next to the laundry hamper.
So, I wait. And plot my revenge for the day. I scoop up all the laundry I can find in the bedroom, dirty, clean, semi-clean, all of it is gone. I sort it, which is unusual for me, and with my new found energy (and muttering all the way) I wash and dry AND fold every single load of manly clothing I can muster up.
And when he comes home, he will find all his clothing in its proper place. Everything neat and tidy. He won’t be able to find a darn thing.
That’ll teach him.