Laundry Haiku

Laundry. Bane of every mom’s existence. Unending source of work. A job that can literally never get done.

This is the job that never ends…

Seriously. Unless you and your family are going to run around completely naked for a couple of days (which, believe me, I’ve contemplated) you won’t ever be able to say the laundry is finished. Sure, the laundry hampers may be empty and the linen closets may be full to bursting, but what about the garments on your body?! Huh? What about those?!

So, I try to be smart about it. I’ve taught my boys how to do their own laundry. The girls know how to sort and put away their own stuff. And, especially during the school year, I try to get a load done at least every other day. “Try” being the operative word.

But then, maybe all hell breaks loose and I go more than an entire week without doing anything in the laundry department. Maybe a kid has been sick and the only things that have been washed are the things that needed to be defunkified. And then maybe, once that child is well again and we’re leaving for vacation in a matter of days, my couch ends up looking like this…

(Photo credit here goes to Josh. He made me write that.)

Waxing poetic

So, while I fold laundry, my mind begins to wander. And I realize that I think some pretty coo-coo things. And then I realize that, hey, I could turn these thoughts into haiku!

You’re welcome, world. You’re welcome.

Gym clothes stink real bad
For real, this can’t be human
Oh, they’re mostly Greg’s.

For the love, kiddos
check your freaking pockets, please!
I found your pencil.

Underwear and socks
Extricate these from your pants
Or they won’t get clean

Only six people
So much friggin’ laundry, man
Goodwill, here we come

So many outfits
Where is all the underwear?
Stinkiness ensured

I washed, dried, folded
Should I put it away, too?
That’s why I had kids.

Surely this is all
There can’t be any more, right?
Dryer buzzed again.

Dryer lint must be
The cremated remains of
The match to lone socks

So, there you have it. My ridiculous musings over too much laundry. Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s time to make dinner. My family wants to eat…again.