As the World Turns...

Thank you for being such a comfort anonymous internet. Truly. Thank you.

In an effort of self preservation, I took down the last two posts. I will put them back up once this whole thing is not so raw. But in the meantime, life keeps going.

So...

We have not done laundry in FOREVER! Actually, since I never do the laundry, I should say "My husband has not done laundry in FOREVER!" That would be more accurate. I have no clean underwear, and my husband had no clean shirts, undershirts or underwear.

Obviously, we were tied up on Monday night. And last night, my husband announced that he had a softball game and a soccer game back to back. It was a rare night when all the planets align in the worst possible scenario. We were going through something upsetting, he had not one, but TWO league games, and I had no clean underwear for the next day. The overwhelming tragedy of it all shook me to the core and before I knew it, I had decided to do some laundry myself.

And briefly, the world stopped spinning on its axis. Did you feel it last night around 7:30 pm EST?

I mean, do the laundry myself? Was I ready for such an event? Particularly in my condition? And not just do the laundry, but do HIS laundry. And not just do HIS laundry, but do his WORK SHIRTS...

You can sense where this is going right?


The attention and concentration I gave to doing his laundry was somewhere around the level of attention and concentration I had given the bar exam. And just for context, I devoted 2 1/2 months of my life to doing nothing but studying for that exam: because my livlihood and ability to have a career depended on my passing that exam. Obviously the comparison to laudering my husband's work shirts is apparent to you, no?

Once all his shirts were properly hung (color coded and all facing the same way in the specific part of the closet designated for work shirts), it occurred to me that my husband's obesession over the laundry is getting a little out of control. Considering.

And in the end, I had done the shirts exactly right. With care and attention anything is possible.

However, in the brew ha ha, I forgot to wash any underwear for myself. I am now wearing a pair of dark purple satin underwear, ripped on the waistband and frayed in one leg band, circa 1992.

At 11pm, when my husband walked through the door, tired from the sports, tired from the events of the past two days, and weighed down by life in general...I announced:

"I washed some work shirts and underwear for you!"

He looked at me and kissed me and said without a trace of worry "Thanks sweetie"

And it was in that moment, I knew that we were going to be just fine.

Of course, it was also in that moment that I decided that the work shirts just weren't worth the aggravation.