On Doing Laundry

I really like doing laundry.

It’s one of very few chores that I genuinely enjoy.  Others being tidying my bookshelves (which is far more like a game than a chore) and doing the weekly shop.

It’s relaxing, satisfying, and nicely discrete.  You have a load of dirty clothes, you put them in the washing machine, you find something else to do, you take them out and hang them up to dry, then you take them down, fold them (if applicable), and put them away.  What’s not to like?  If I’m being honest my favourite bit is the drying – I have a strange fascination with things drying/freezing/melting etc.  But apart from that it’s just a highly pleasant weekly routine.  I even find myself disappointed when my partner chooses to do the laundry when I’m out, despite the fact that she’s actually being helpful.

There is however a bit of issue with terminology.  When I was growing up, laundry was called “the washing”.  I think this is a general British (or maybe just English) thing, although it might just be my parents.  Anyway, I now have an American partner who loathes the ambiguity between washing (laundry), washing up (dishes) and washing (yourself).  Which is not an unfair complaint, so I have taken to calling it laundry.

I think it’s time to go and check if the clothes hanging outside are dry.

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