According to Hofmann: Second laundry list of woes
So I took a poll after last week鈥檚 column where I argued that doing laundry is an insane act.
The majority of those polled agree that there鈥檚 nothing insane about doing laundry as it鈥檚 a necessity, and they unanimously agreed that since they answered my various laundry questions, I should unlock my basement door and free them.
Of course, they鈥檙e wrong on both counts, and the reasons are evident in the routine of doing laundry as I鈥檝e previously covered separating, washing and drying clothes.
Now, keep in mind the process at that point involves moving clothes from where you dress and undress and redress and address upstairs, to have your clothes cleaned a floor or two or three or more in a basement only to have to take them back upstairs again.
There are some exceptions, of course, like people who live in mobile homes, ranch-style houses or people who just decided it鈥檚 time to move to the basement to live like a 24-year-old slacker at his parents鈥� house.
When my brother moved into his new house, their washer and dryer were on the same floor as the bedroom and upstairs bathroom.
During the house tour, my late father thought it was the greatest innovation since tap water because he hated doing laundry, too.
鈥淚鈥檝e heard about these things before, but I鈥檝e never seen it,鈥� I remember him saying. He sounded like a Bigfoot enthusiast who one day bumped into a Sasquatch on a city bus.
While having the washer/dryer on the same floor is a step in the right direction, laundry machines really need to take a lesson from dish washing machines. They鈥檙e not only on the same floor, but right in the same room with the things that need washing鈥搈ost of the time in arm鈥檚 reach like silverware, plates, bowls, pots, pans, ninja swords, handcuffs, etc.
Anyway, there鈥檚 so much traveling involved with laundry, the only thing worse on all accounts is actually driving, walking or hitchhiking through seedy neighborhoods to go to the laundromat.
When I lived in an apartment, I made the weekly trek to the laundromat and if hauling clothes upstairs and downstairs is like a savage journey on the Oregon Trail and dying of cholera, then going to the laundromat is like visiting another planet and dying of cholera.
The strange thing about the laundromat is the fact that everyone thinks everyone else there is a psychopath, and you actually start to feel like one after a while.
Just try to picture yourself as a grown person pushing a gurney full of wet clothes in search of an available dryer while trying to count in your head how many quarters you鈥檒l need to pump into a dryer to get your clothes at least dry enough (or not-still-wet enough) so you won鈥檛 have to resort to hanging your shorts on your ironing board or hanging socks and underwear across your apartment on a clothesline made out of dental floss to dry鈥揳ll the while keeping your eye on the weirdo hoarding those mini-boxes of Gain detergent.
Meanwhile, the soap-box hoarder is looking at you with caution because, 1. You鈥檙e getting suspiciously close to his cherished soap boxes and 2. You鈥檙e muttering to yourself about quarters and hanging underwear all through your house with dental floss.
Speaking of hanging clothes, let鈥檚 talk about folding clothes.
Now, for some odd reason, the only thing I truly enjoy about laundry is folding clothes. I don鈥檛 know what it is, but there鈥檚 something about folding clothes鈥揺specially putting the wrinkled-mess of shirts into these perfect rectangles that makes me feel like I鈥檓 restoring some order into the universe.
Just don鈥檛 say that out loud at the laundromat because everyone, even the soap-box hoarder, will farther distance and also likely further distance themselves from you.
Of course, I鈥檇 be remiss if I didn鈥檛 mention the phenomenon of socks without a match.
Sherlocks Holmes couldn鈥檛 figure that out, so I can鈥檛 even begin to imagine how two socks enter, one sock leaves like the dryer is the Thunderdome.
I also can鈥檛 imagine why we as rational human beings believe these sock singles are going to be reunited with their significant others some day.
My wife has a special basket for these footwear refugees.
It鈥檚 difficult to feel any emotion for inanimate objects other than paper clips, but I hate walking past that sock basket and seeing those socks; it鈥檚 like they鈥檙e staring at me, and I鈥檓 looking back like I鈥檓 saying to them, 鈥淢aybe this next load, you will be a pair again.鈥�
鈥淪top it!鈥� the socks holler back. 鈥淭his is the seventh laundry day! They鈥檙e gone forever! Just don鈥檛 make puppets out of us so we can die with some dignity!鈥�
Yes, I鈥檓 well aware that this is most certainly a 鈥渇irst-world problem鈥� and a bit of a 鈥渕ental problem鈥� in my case, and I agree that I鈥檓 being whiny about it all, but it is a problem worth whining about until a sound solution is found.
But before that can happen, my best solution is relying on those locked in my basement to do the laundry. Maybe then I鈥檒l consider letting them go.
According to Hofmann is written by staff reporter Mark Hofmann of Rostraver Township. He co-hosts the 鈥淟ocally Yours鈥� radio show on WMBS 590 AM every Friday. His book, 鈥淪tupid Brain,鈥� is available on Amazon.com.