I Prayed to the Laundry God Today.
Today, I prayed to the laundry God. This is the almighty power that I pray to when I want my clothes protected while washing them. Today, I prayed to protect my husband’s brand new long sleeve Under Armour Work Pullover. You know the ones equipped with logo of the his company. His very important & brand new, never worn, company logo top. (Side note: Why was is it in the wash?)
Let me rewind a little and explain some stuff. See, I don’t give a fuck about laundry. That is the least of my worries. So…that being said, sorting, what’s sorting? Sorting, Schmorting! I just don’t have time for that shit. Yeah, yeah….some of you, that land in the anal retentive category are like, “Jesus, woman, what are you thinking?” But, my response is….Like….who has time to hand wash bras or hand wash my sheets and line dry. That shit gets thrown in the washer and I pray that I get one more wash out of it, For my bras, its imminent death, its not “If” its when will the metal pokes come through. Yep…I am that person. So no sorting=no checking pockets. This causes my husband to supply himself with stock of chap stick. His fault he leaves them in his pocket. I like to call his loss of Chap Sticks to the washer and dryer as the Chap Stick Cemetery. I, actually have a bowl, just for the remains of the Chap Stick after the hot water has melted all of the wax away. Just the chance of Chap Stick being in his pocket makes me pray that if a chap stick made the wash, that it didn’t touch anything and leave grease marks. That prayer is said, almost every wash.
But today, unbeknownst to me, my husband or daughter left gum in a pocket. I didn’t realize it until I started folding the laundry. I had dried the gum. My hubby’s jog pants were victim of the gums brutal havoc. I realize this and put them to the side. I was thinking to myself, “I’m going to hear this one,” when I realized his beloved, brand new work shirt was in this laundry load. I yelled at the top of my lungs, "Fuck!!!" As I looked up at the sky to the laundry God! Please………!!!!! Please, God…if you get me through this one, I will check pockets….I will check the fucking pockets.” I scan his new work shirt. Nothing. I wanted to freaking cry. I will take the “I am disappointed look” when he gets home about his job pants. But, I did NOT want to hear about his shirt. Needless to say…..the laundry God heard my cries of desperation and granted me one more day.”
I took a breath of relief. Shew! Made it through another day. Praise Laundry God & His Mercy!