Of all life’s mundane tasks that I dislike the most, laundry is at the top of the list. It’s the Sisyphean stone of chores. There are so many tedious steps involved – taking your clothes from the dirty clothes bin to to the wash machine, coming back, putting them in the dryer, returning once more to take them out of the dryer, folding the clean clothes, and finally putting them into your drawers – and, unless you were do this whole process stark naked, you are never ever done with it. There are always more dirty clothes.
Whats more, for such a long, involved process, laundry is so unsatisfying. In part I think this is because laundry and clothes are kept out of sight. It’s not like cleaning a bathroom, which never fails to delight me – a clean bathroom does not look like a dirty bathroom. In contrast, my dresser and laundry bin both look the same at the beginning and end of the laundry chore process.
(Even cleaning out closets or refrigerators, while the contents are also usually hidden from view, is a big step up. I suspect this is because the change is so much longer lasting and can be maintained, whereas laundry, as mentioned, is never done.)
Don’t even get me started on hand washing.
This is likely one of the key reasons why I look back on my time in Buenos Aires so fondly. It’s not even an option at most laundromats to DIY your laundry. Instead, standard procedure is to drop off your dirty clothes and return the next day to find them cleaned, folded, and ironed for you, at a very reasonable price.
Life has never been so good before or since then. Europe was pretty bad – there are few dryers so laundry usually air dries, further elongating the laundry process – but my trepidation towards laundry may have reached its zenith in my current home. While I’ve always struggled with laundry, (just ask my mom, she will confirm,) I now face the additional barrier of four flights of stairs to the laundry room in the basement. Four flights of stairs! This means that in order to complete one load of laundry, I must climb 12 flights of stairs. Woe to me if I do something silly, like forget that my laundry card doesn’t have enough money on it and I must go upstairs again to find cash. Or, also bad, I need to do two loads of laundry, which entails a total climb of 20 flights of stairs.
All this is to say that I did loads of laundry this weekend, and I am clearly not over it yet.