Men are From Mars Women are from Venus Part II

Originally posted April 11, 2007

I want to preface this blog by stating how much I DO love my husband even if he is NUMERO UNO at the top of my proverbial sh!t list at the moment. My husband, God love him…SUCKS at doing the laundry. I haven't determined if it is some "passive-aggressive" ploy on his part to try to get out of doing laundry…or if he is genuinely laundry-challenged.

Laundry is something that we have argued about since the dawn of time. I say there is one way to do it…the RIGHT WAY, and he says that not everything has to be done my way, and my way isn't always the RIGHT WAY.

Well, let me say this: yes…my WAY is the right way, because *I* read the back of the detergent box. They have the whole damn thing color coded to ensure that even the largest of idiots can clearly read that the laundry should be separated according to TYPE: warm for colors, hot for whites or heavily soiled items and cold for permanent press. (not that I am implying that he is large…or an idiot, just sayin').

Now, if that isn't clear enough, 99.999% of clothing comes with some kind of tag that specifically gives you the washing instructions. So, what I am saying is that there are MULTIPLE venues in which to clearly discern the washing mode for each article of clothing.

I don't want to point fingers or anything (he did it)…but I have caught him washing my underwear (which are NOT sold in a 6-pack at Walmart) along with the towels that he uses to clean the road grit from his tires.

I have also caught him washing towels that were used to clean bio-hazards (ie…yak, poo, etc) along with the general population of towels in which I dry off after a shower. Ewwwwwwwwwwww.

So, then I go to dry off…and oddly, everything smells like yak, or poo…and I am standing there fuming. On other occasions, he has washed regular colors with our dusting rags. It's nice when people comment that they can always smell Pledge when you are around. So, I have taken to sniffing everything prior to use. Sad, but true.

So, today he says that he did a load of whites. I personally was thrilled until I opened up the dryer and discovered one of my $60 bras in there. (grrr) Now, I don't want to hear anything about WHY do I need a $60 bra, except to say…I have big boobs. Cheap bra's will not/do not/won't ever support the girls properly.

So, now my bra…will fit my pre-teen daughter, as it was washed in hot water and dried on EXTRA CRISPY. To say that I am irritated is an understatement, and I feeling a little vengeful. If this were the first time this had happened, I might be feeling more generous, but he has ruined every decent pair of underwear I own, a fair amount of my shirts, and now one of two bra's that actually fit.

So, should the solution be that he is "no longer allowed to do laundry"..? HELL NO…that would be giving him what he wants. I know how much it sucks to do laundry, I do it EVERY SINGLE DAY OF MY LIFE. And if I skip a day…you can't even get into our laundry room as the clothes are waist deep.

Should he be responsible for doing laundry on occasion? I think so. He wears several outfits a day, uses several towels, and contributes the overall laundry problem. Now, his argument is that he shouldn't have to do it…as he has to do yard work, and it's not like doing the laundry is hard like it was back in the day when women had to beat it up against rocks.

BWAHAHAHAHAHA…excuse me while I get myself together.

First of all…yard work = seasonal work, at best. He doesn't fertilize the grass, because he doesn't want it to grow. He mows…ONLY when we can no longer see dogs or kids clearly. We have no flowers, unless they came on the bushes that came with the house, and he doesn't weed anything, as some of those weeds produce flowers, and I wanted flowers…RIGHT?

And if he had to mow everyday, I could see his point…and yeah, that might equal out all the number of hours I spend weekly doing laundry. Second of all, don't even bring up the fact that laundry isn't hard because I am not standing out in the middle of some nasty river beating our clothes up against some rocks. It's not exactly hard to get out on your RIDING lawnmower, with built-in BEVERAGE (beer) holder and cut the grass. Hell, I would LOVE it if I could ride on something for one of my chores. Bring on the riding floor mopper, I would be on that like white on rice. Better yet, give me a riding vacuum, one that has a 360 degree turning radius. I would vacuum every single day! But I digress…

So, what is the solution? I don't know. He says that I need to look more at the things he DOES do, rather than concentrating on the things he doesn't do. Maybe so. He is great with the kids, and straightens the house, vacuums from time to time, makes bottles, kills spiders and other bugs on command, can grill with the best of them, does dishes at least as much as I do, and today he even made the bed. So, maybe I should just let this slide. However, never has a bigger witch been born than a woman trying to stuff herself into a pair of pantyhose on a hot humid day, or trying to stuff big boobs into a bra that is now two sizes too small. No good can come from that.