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Laundry, the eternal chore

Seriously, does anyone ever like doing laundry? If they do then they're insane, it's awful!

I do one load every couple of days, it works out easier for me than having a specific laundry day as I share the laundry room with 5 other apartments. I also have to walk down a few flights of stairs with laundry and a toddler who is not particularly adept at walking down stairs on his own, so it's not like I can take everything down at once anyway. The bottomless pit of a laundry basket is constantly filling up and there is never any end to it. I think if I ever managed to get everything out of there I'd probably be able to see Australia through the bottom.

If I get behind and decide to have a laundry day to clean everything, I will feel satisfied once it is all done, until I realise that I am not done. Because guess what? The clothes that we are wearing while doing the laundry will need to be washed. It makes me want to scream.

I also detest putting away clothes, more than actually putting the laundry on to wash. Folding and ironing is fine for some reason. Mikey can "help" with the folding, although he usually likes to try and wear everything, we can watch TV while we're doing it and it's quite relaxing. Putting things away seems like such a chore though, we frequently have piles of washed, folded laundry sitting on our spare couch. I try to convince the husband that it's really his job to put it away, (seen as I take out the trash, fix things and generally do all of the "man jobs") he doesn't fall for it though. Damn.

Where did this come from? The husband got home from TDY yesterday afternoon. While he was away I had done all of the laundry, I grabbed the last load out of the dryer shortly after he walked through the door. I'd even put most of it away and was feeling quite proud of myself. This morning, he emptied his ruck onto the floor. An entire bag of laundry. Not all of it had been worn, but since it had all been mixed in together I will have to wash it all anyway. See what I mean? Eternal Laundry.

At least I managed to find some nice smelling laundry soap that Mikey and I are not allergic to. We had been using that baking soda stuff which does not smell of anything, so our clothes just came out of the dryer smelling of dryer dust. We've been allergic to every American brand we had tried so far, not that there is a whole lot of choice in the commissary here. The nice smell of the new brand makes me feel a little better about it at least. In fact I was quite excited when I found my old British brand of laundry soap in the German Grocery Store and hugged it with glee all the way to the checkout. I am not ashamed.

And yuck, you saw I mentioned using a dryer? I hate the dryer. I wish we had a yard where we could hang clothes. Technically I could hang them in the house, but I know little boy would enjoy pulling them down and spreading them around the floor a little too much.

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I am a 24 year old British stay at home mother to a two year old boy. Married to a U.S. soldier and currently living in Germany.

I have seen the Vatican from the very top of St Peter's Basilica, the mud in the World War I trenches outside Ypres. I have walked through Montmartre side streets bustling with people in the evening, gotten lost in the streets of Greenwich Village NYC, run through cornfields on the Welsh border and sat outside with a cup of tea watching fireflies in the fields of the outer Chicago suburbs.

I have held the hands of others through addiction, fear, suicide, despair and come out the other side. I have left everything behind to begin anew.
I have fought mental illness and walked through snow in the mountains of the lake district, England. I have explored the morgue in the bowels of an abandoned hospital on a summer evening, climbed to the top of scaffolding on the outside of a five floor warehouse to look at the city lights of Nottingham at night and I have watched the sun setting on the Texas horizon.

I have held my son's tiny hand through the plastic window on an isolette in the NICU ward. Walked, speaking only in whispers, through the catacombs beneath the ground on the outskirts of Rome and seen the fireworks over Heidelberg castle.