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It Takes a Real Man to do the Laundry

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Not every man is secure enough in his masculinity to admit that yes, I do the laundry in this household. I am not only secure in my manhood, but am also in sync with my feminine side. That is if you want to call The Wife my feminine side.

It’s a Man’s World
Our schedules clash—one reason we have lasted this long—so I am home during the day and do the laundry. I also have been a bit obsessive about clean clothes since childhood which would explain why Mom made me to do my own laundry as a child. I’ve learned if you want something done, do it yourself. I’ve also learned if you want something done right, don’t worry—The Wife will straighten you out.

Old Habits Die Hard
Doing my laundry used to be a lot easier when I was a bachelor. I just poured whatever I had into a washer and dropped in a few coins along with a packet of detergent. Now that we have our own washer and dryer and of course, I’m doing laundry for two, I’m expected to do things the right way. Actually, once married doing things the right way is a lot easier. I now have a certain someone there to let me know when and what I’m doing wrong.

Color Coordinate
Now I’m told I’m supposed to separate colors; not so easy for the color blind. Separating darks from lights is easy enough but when pinks look white to me, they soon become white; something that irritates The Wife to no end. In my house everything is dark, light, no exceptions. Pink does not exist in my color spectrum, or my house, thanks to Clorox Bleach.

I Fold is Not Just a Poker Term
This is the worst part of laundry duty. Of course, I do it all wrong but at least it gets done. I fold what should be hung up and I hang up what should be folded. I draw the line at putting things away though. I know what goes in my dresser drawers but her dresser is sacred ground just like her purse. I have no desire, nor interest, in what is in either and steer clear of both.

I Am Iron Man
I iron everything we have. My iron is in the basement right next to the washer; it is called a dryer. If something is wrinkled, I throw it back in for twenty minutes. If it’s still wrinkled: another twenty. If it’s still wrinkled, that’s how it’s supposed to look and I hang it up or fold it, whichever is wrong.

Do the Right Thing
So, I’ve learned to use cold water on colors, hot water on whites, and bleach on pinks. Okay, bleach on whites, which in my world includes pink which soon become white and therefore are no longer a problem. I use those little dryer sheets mainly because The Wife told me to, though I have no idea what they do. I’ve learned to throw tennis shoes in the dryer when drying down comforters or coats and even learned to use clean tennis shoes after a time or two. I’ve also learned you can only leave wet clothes in the washer for two days before they start smelling worse than before you washed them, but they’ll keep in the dryer forever. I’ve also learned that once you start doing the laundry, it is your chore forever so man up and just get her done.

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