jamelah.net

Monday, July 11, 2005

category: things i shouldn't ever write about, ever
There are things I hate in this world, and laundry is definitely one of them. I hate doing laundry. Like, a lot. I don't really understand why, because laundry, in and of itself, isn't so bad. I mean, out of all the household chores, it involves the least amount of work. You know, because you put the clothes in a machine, and the machine does everything while you watch TV. But whatever, we all have our quirks, and my intense laundry hatred is one of mine.

Of course, laundry can't be avoided, like, say, floor mopping, for instance. Because if you want to wear clothes that are clean, eventually, you have to make that hated trek to the basement with the 9-ton laundry basket and do all that sorting and whatnot. The reason laundry can't be avoided? Underwear. I have enough clothes that I can get away with not doing laundry for approximately one month, and then I can probably push it for another week if I absolutely have to by wearing that stuff in the back of my closet. Yet somehow, I never time my clean-underwear-run-out correctly, and I always have to break down and do it sooner.

This is bizarre, because, like George Costanza, I think the key is in owning lots of underwear. And I do. If all of it were clean at the same time, I wouldn't be able to close my underwear drawer. Provided, of course, that I put it away, instead of leaving it in the laundry basket at the foot of my bed with all the other clothes I didn't feel like putting away, forcing me each morning to rummage through it like a crazy person looking for a white bra so I can wear the light-colored shirt I want to wear, instead of the black shirt I don't want to wear, because even though black goes with everything, it really doesn't go with that skirt I already ironed, which I wouldn't have needed to iron if I had hung it up in my closet instead of leaving it in the laundry basket at the foot of my bed and really, when am I going to learn and why is life so hard?

Ahem.

So I have a lot of underwear, anyway. And there's that pair. You know, that one pair. Everyone has that pair of underwear... the ones that you have but never want to wear and manage to avoid until you're desperate and don't have any others to put on that day, so you spend the entire day hating yourself for not just doing laundry in the first place because what's wrong with you anyway. Yes, that pair. In my case, that pair is The Purple Thong. Yep. I always know, once I get to The Purple Thong that all of my options have run out and I'll be spending my evening doing laundry.

Why do I hate The Purple Thong so? Well, I don't have a specific reason. It's just that I hate thongs in general. So why do I own The Purple Thong? It's like this, see: once upon a time, I was shopping with my friend Stacy, and lo, underwear, it was on sale. I mentioned that even though I didn't actually own any, I hated thongs, because I just knew that they must be a godawful underwear experience. Stacy said to me that no, thongs were actually awesome, because wearing them was akin to not wearing underwear at all, to which I argued, well, why not just go commando, then? This went on for awhile, until finally I buckled and bought the aforementioned hated Purple Thong.

Perhaps I have a mental block against the apparent benefits of the thongishness of thongs, but whatever, because they're not like going commando at all and anyone who says otherwise is a big lying liar with all of the lies. Lies!

Ahem (part the second).

So, in case you haven't guessed, today is Purple Thong day. I hate Purple Thong days because I can't ever get anything done because I'm much too busy thinking about how I got stuck wearing The Purple Thong and I hate The Purple Thong and really, who is responsible for creating underwear whose sole purpose is to be ridiculously uncomfortable and have any of the people who say wearing a thong is just like going commando ever gone commando, not that I've ever gone commando, you understand, I'm just saying and why do I always have to wait with the laundry until I get stuck wearing The Purple Thong what is wrong with me and why do I always do these hated evil things to myself why oh why oh why?

Anyway, before this post gets any worse (which I'm not sure would even be possible), I just want to say, Dear Reader, that if you need me today, I'll be in the basement. Doing laundry. Like I should've done a few days ago when I still had time, but avoided because I was too stupid to remember the torture that awaited me.

The end.





posted by jamelah
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