Sort This
Cindy does the laundry in our house. Not because I won't do it, or because I think it's beneath me... mainly she does it because she doesn't think I do it properly.
When I did do laundry, somehow successfully for 20 or so years, I wouldn't sort at all. Everything together, washed in cold water. Everything dried. Nothing ironed. Pretty simple.
I'd wash something new alone if I thought it would run, but after that... in with everything else. Never had a problem.
I know some people like ad apparently (and an old college girlfriend) who'd sort into several piles: white, light, dark, bright, pastel, browns, plaid, yellow ochres... At least Cindy only does whites and everything else.
I think people who sort that much never had to walk a couple of blocks in the rain and 20 degree weather to the laundromat and pay 75 cents for each load that usually took an hour, having your clothes stolen occasionally if you left, so you'd wait in that fetid room with stains on the peeling linoleum floor that you couldn't identify, with the bulletin board with newspaper clippings from the Eisenhower administration yellowing on it, where the carcasses of dead cockroaches had to be swept off the top of the folding table with the cigarette burns on it, where you had to sometimes take a chisel to the caked-up mass of undissolved soap that had formed as a sort of blue-green concrete on the washer agitator, only to walk back in the mud and rain and 20 degree weather to find you couldn't find the key to your apartment.
You do that long enough you learn to just wash everything in one load.
When I did do laundry, somehow successfully for 20 or so years, I wouldn't sort at all. Everything together, washed in cold water. Everything dried. Nothing ironed. Pretty simple.
I'd wash something new alone if I thought it would run, but after that... in with everything else. Never had a problem.
I know some people like ad apparently (and an old college girlfriend) who'd sort into several piles: white, light, dark, bright, pastel, browns, plaid, yellow ochres... At least Cindy only does whites and everything else.
I think people who sort that much never had to walk a couple of blocks in the rain and 20 degree weather to the laundromat and pay 75 cents for each load that usually took an hour, having your clothes stolen occasionally if you left, so you'd wait in that fetid room with stains on the peeling linoleum floor that you couldn't identify, with the bulletin board with newspaper clippings from the Eisenhower administration yellowing on it, where the carcasses of dead cockroaches had to be swept off the top of the folding table with the cigarette burns on it, where you had to sometimes take a chisel to the caked-up mass of undissolved soap that had formed as a sort of blue-green concrete on the washer agitator, only to walk back in the mud and rain and 20 degree weather to find you couldn't find the key to your apartment.
You do that long enough you learn to just wash everything in one load.
1 comments:
I personnally think it is worth waiting until you have more than one load instead of running to the laundry mat everytime you have just a few items. The time savings of accumulating several loads (which can be sorted) and doing those several loads at one time can add years of free time to your life.
Aside - Memory has it that pre-Cindy, all Hank's wardrope was gray, therefore sorting wasn't an issue.
the girlfriend who sorted her
Monday, August 16, 2004 at 8:22:00 PM CDT
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