The Laundry

As much as I may represent the antithesis of the stereotypical “balinghou” woman, certain aspects of daily life put me right in the mold.

Laundry is my achilles heel.


It is only in recent years that I have discovered (more like run into the brick wall) how I am entirely the product of a culture and generation that undervalues household upkeep.

I can be high self-sufficient. I am quite organized and clean in many regards.

Laundry tosses me on my ass, every single time.


By this point in my life, I can say it is not for lack of trying.

I launch into things, any issue, whatever the field of expertise. Part of it is ego, part of it simply because I am rather confident in my problem solving abilities. Whether it be finance, to sales, to operations to hr to labour disputes to terminations to IT support to customer service to fixing appliances around the house. I don’t hesitate in launching in.

Admittedly sometimes against better judgement and senior advice.

Laundry is awful.

85% of the time the washing and drying (yes, as the assimilated American I am, I do always rely on a washer and a dryer) goes okay. The folding is….like Californian pollen season. I still cannot figure out why it takes me so long and I do it so so very Very badly.

I know this, because the once a week my cleaning ladies come in for the hour they’ve managed to make everything spark, lemony-fresh AND my laundry all folded like they belong on some home shopping network commercial.

I’d like to get good at housework.

One day.


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