Folding 101

My husband does our laundry. I am convinced he does this because he doesn't trust me to do it. I base this on the following encounter we had upon returning from our 2 week honeymoon with approximately 26 loads of laundry to do:

Me: "I'm going to do the laundry!" (said with excitement as I thought I was doing something nice for him)

Him: "That's alright, I can do it, you look tired."

Me: "I want to do it, I'm not tired."

Him: "........."

Me: "I can do it, just tell me what I have to do."

Him: "Ummm, alright, just don't wash anything of mine"


I think I have a fairly strong argument that he doesn't trust me to do the laundry. And to be fair, he has a point...I have a history of laundry mishaps. But last night he did some laundry and I said I would help him fold it. As we were folding, I couldn't help but notice that he was rushing to grab all of his clothes out of the basket to fold and kept handing me my own shirts/pants/underwear to fold.

Me: "Are you not letting me fold your stuff on purpose?"

Him: "......."

Me: "Do you not like the way I fold?"

Him: "I just like my T-shirts folded a certain way."

Me: "Just show me."

Him: "......"

Apparently there are techniques to folding boxer shorts. Techniques that I can not hope to grasp. So last night I spent a good half hour going through his dresser and analyzing the way he folds his things. The good wife folds her husband's laundry. What a pain in the ass being a good wife is.

This is what marraige is about. Love means spending the night figuring out how he likes his undershirts folded, while he picks up the 30 pairs of shoes I have left all over the house. And there is nothing I would rather be doing for the next 50 years.