Lest any of you with washers and dryers in your home feel that laundry is hard, I’m here to tell you about my laundry routine today. I hope that after reading this you will go kiss and hug your washer and dryer and apologize for having ever calling it bad names.
To understand most of this you have to know that we live in a high rise apartment building. The laundry room is in the basement – we’re on the 6th floor so taking the elevator is necessary. In a stroke of brilliance the building’s design is such that only one elevator goes to the basement. The freight elevator. If anyone happens to be moving in or out or if maintenance is using it for garbage collection you are shit out of luck and have to take a regular elevator to the lobby and then go down one flight of stairs to the basement. The hauling of laundry up and down those stairs with a baby strapped to my chest in his Ergo is probably one of the reasons I’ve lost all the baby weight and then some. (I know, I am SUCH. A. BITCH.)
10:00 I decide to do a load of laundry. Just the baby’s stuff. Easy peasy. I set about distracting the child with something shiny while I pull on my jeans (hmm, must remember to wash these, maybe tomorrow, I think that’s a spot of pureed peas there…).
10:10 Distract child further with dirty socks while I spray his food stained clothes with stain remover.
10:20 Wrestle him into Ergo. Pack my pockets with laundry card, keys, and cell phone (I like to note what time my load will be done with an alarm). Sling Ikea bag of laundry over my shoulder and head out to the elevators.
10:30 Shit. There’s only $3.40 on this laundry card???? At $2.20 per wash and per dry it is clear I have to go get cash to reload the card. Of course I have no cash on hand, WHY WOULD I DO SUCH A SENSIBLE THING?
Back upstairs I wrestle the child into some outdoor clothes, grab Roger’s shirts for the dry cleaner and shove both child and shirts into stroller. If I’m going to have to go outside for cash, I’ll just do some more laundry while we’re at it. I’ll get my jeans clean! As the freight elevator is currently working, I’ll craftily lug two loads down using the stroller (saving my back some grief) and leave them while we fetch cash.
Loads of laundry are left in basement. We head out to the dry cleaners on the corner and then across the street to the ATM.
11:00 Back to the building…oh MOTHER F****R the freight elevator is now busy. Can’t get to basement with stroller. Back upstairs we go, pull child out of stroller, strap him back into the Ergo, and back to elevators.
11:15 The laundry room is not a pretty scene. 8 washers are now in use. There are only 7 dryers. Crap. There will be a dryer fight damnit. (massive shout out right now to the GENIUS who designed a laundry room with 14 washers and 7 dryers for a 30 story building) I throw the baby’s laundry into a dryer and get the other two loads washing. We walk up to the lobby to take an elevator home and I notice that I’m still wearing my dirty jeans. Sigh.
11:45 We go down and retrieve the baby laundry. Someone is eyeing my dryer intently. FINE, you were here first I suppose. I have to leave our freshly washed loads sitting damp. As suspected, all dryers are full.
12:20 Baby’s cranky, needs a nap. Eff it. The clothes can just sit some more. I get him sleeping and set about cleaning up from our lunch. I fold the baby laundry. Discover a sock is missing.
12:50 I discover missing sock in the bathroom trash can. Note to self: don’t let the baby play with dirty socks again. Or at least count socks before heading down to laundry room.
2:00 (ish?) Naptime over. After a couple read thrus of Guess How Much I Love You – both popup and non-popup version, baby goes back into Ergo and down we go. Laundry into dryer. Back upstairs for 28 minutes. Back into Ergo and down we go. Damn freight elevator is being vacuumed??? Two loads of laundry on my back and we climb the stairs to the lobby and catch an elevator home.
DONE. Except for the folding, but the kid’s a little more helpful there.
Tomorrow I plan to do a load of laundry that will consist of 1 pair of seriously dirty, gross Mom jeans and one baby sock. I hope it involves only 6 elevator rides.