A Dadbro's Guide to Doing A Shiton Of Laundry Like A Bawss
We have seven children, five of whom live with us. This means a lot of things:
1) Our monthly food budget is bigger than most people's incomes.
2) You never know when you're going to have to say something like "well there were three of you standing on the toilet with underwear on your heads - what did you THINK was going to happen?" or "Why is the cat in the fridge?"
3) There is a never ending tsunami of laundry to contend with.
Seriously. I had hopes and dreams for my life once, and they're now suffocated and buried unceremoniously knee-deep in striped little girls socks and ginch with skid marks that won't come out unless you burn them.
I forgot to take a "before" picture. Honestly, I was afraid to in the event that Martha Stewart or Super Nanny got a hold of my phone and called CPS on us.
It was only a week! A FUCKING WEEK!
So, I put together a little guide for the dudes in the house who are like "I dunno how to do that shit" because YOU CAN DO IT. You're not one of those douchecanoes who practices the antiquated gender-based dichotomy, you are an enlightened modern male.
You just need a little brovice, and I'm here to lay it on you straight up because your poor wife/girlfriend/partner/significant other is gonna snap if they never get a break from it, and by the time we're done this exercise you'll understand why. Plus, it's mega points you can cash in next time you run a Pokerstars tourney.
A note about matching socks:
Just because they're mostly the same color does not mean they match. Don't be a dick. The socks above, although both from the Black Sock Pile(tm) are NOT A FUCKING MATCH DUMBASS. They are different sizes, made of different cotton and they are going to feel goddamn weird if you put them on your feet. Making them match is not about looking cool, nobody's gonna see your stupid socks under your pants and shoes, but you (or your little dudes) will FEEL that one goes halfway up the calf and the other is stuck at the top of your shoe. This will fuck your whole day up.
That's how you do it. Even if you always buy the same brand, your socks will have generations where some are six months older than others, which means they've had six months of sweaty fungus feet and washings happen to them and they'll be at different stages in their lifecycle which means they will FEEL DIFFERENT and again, that's gonna mess with your mojo. Take the five minutes to properly match them and you'll appreciate it all day every day.
Check that shit out! That, my friends, is a drawer full of clean, matched socks. For the next week at least you will not have to scavenge for a pair, and that feels awesome. Take a moment to congratulate yourself, most of this shit wasn't of your creation but the reward, besides being able to walk around the room next to the laundry area without stepping on textiles is that when you get up you can slide your sock drawer open and there's a whole pile of awesome waiting to slide onto your footsies.
At the end, you'll have a few stragglers. What happened to their matches? Who the fuck knows, it's a mystery that's right up there with how the pyramids were made and what looking for eggs has to do with zombie Jesus rising from the grave. You have to live in the moment dude, and at this moment you have these leftovers. Put them in a seperete spot and if their match doesn't turn up by the the next time you go through this ordeal, THROW THEM THE FUCK OUT, otherwise you'll end up with another goddamn basket full of fucking bullshit socks that end up just spread over everywhere.
Where the fuck did THIS come from? I haven't had a kid who could fit this on anything put their nose for at least five years. This is not the time to get sentimental, however gentlemen, you gotta be ruthless if you ever wanna see your floor again so take just a moment to go "aww my babies were so little and cute once upon a time back when they didn't talk back or complain about homework!" and then stuff that shit into a garbage bag before anyone else sees it and decides they wanna have it cast on bronze or some similarly stupid shit.
This is the part we saved for last, because it is the most daunting, soul crushing bullshit domestic activity ever sentenced upon humankind: sorting girls socks. Again, it's worth reiterating that this is but a fraction of the fuckers we had a few months ago. There's that Spongebob sock again, and in all seriousness, fuck him and his condescending smile, he's obviously orphaned and will soon be joining his other homies in the trashbin.
I don't ever recall Pipi Longstocking staying here for a sleepover but this is exactly the kind of sock I would never buy my daughters. It looks like the wicked witch of the west's gay sister was a guest over Christmas. Interestingly, it was one of the only girls socks I could find a match for, so, for now at least, it survives for another week.
You're almost there! With them all laid out like this, it becomes a simple matter of spotting which ones are clearly unlike the others. These are the girls stragglers.
1) Our monthly food budget is bigger than most people's incomes.
2) You never know when you're going to have to say something like "well there were three of you standing on the toilet with underwear on your heads - what did you THINK was going to happen?" or "Why is the cat in the fridge?"
3) There is a never ending tsunami of laundry to contend with.
Seriously. I had hopes and dreams for my life once, and they're now suffocated and buried unceremoniously knee-deep in striped little girls socks and ginch with skid marks that won't come out unless you burn them.
I forgot to take a "before" picture. Honestly, I was afraid to in the event that Martha Stewart or Super Nanny got a hold of my phone and called CPS on us.
It was only a week! A FUCKING WEEK!
So, I put together a little guide for the dudes in the house who are like "I dunno how to do that shit" because YOU CAN DO IT. You're not one of those douchecanoes who practices the antiquated gender-based dichotomy, you are an enlightened modern male.
You just need a little brovice, and I'm here to lay it on you straight up because your poor wife/girlfriend/partner/significant other is gonna snap if they never get a break from it, and by the time we're done this exercise you'll understand why. Plus, it's mega points you can cash in next time you run a Pokerstars tourney.
Wash those mofos.
Don't worry about sorting colors - fuck that, that's for chumps. Just heave as much as is supposed to fit in there, slam the door shut before it falls back out, turn the sucker on and go have a smoke - you're getting shit done bro!
Note: I urge you to invest in a high-capacity, high efficiency set of machines because the cost of electricity is already turning me into the energy nazi, stalking from room to empty room turning off lights, crying out about how it's great that we left the light on for the mice and cutting long showers short because the price of fucking electricity is driving me to drink. I even named the little bastard who's doing it Henrick. "Is Henrick done in the closet!?" I bellow, clicking the light off angrily.
A new set will pay for itself in a year if you do laundry more than a few times a week.
Don't worry about sorting colors - fuck that, that's for chumps. Just heave as much as is supposed to fit in there, slam the door shut before it falls back out, turn the sucker on and go have a smoke - you're getting shit done bro!
Note: I urge you to invest in a high-capacity, high efficiency set of machines because the cost of electricity is already turning me into the energy nazi, stalking from room to empty room turning off lights, crying out about how it's great that we left the light on for the mice and cutting long showers short because the price of fucking electricity is driving me to drink. I even named the little bastard who's doing it Henrick. "Is Henrick done in the closet!?" I bellow, clicking the light off angrily.
A new set will pay for itself in a year if you do laundry more than a few times a week.
Dump that shit in a giant pile on a couch or something that's not the floor.
The key here is, unless you're sorting it IMMEDIATELY, put it on anything but the floor, because kids are assholes that will walk all over their own clean laundry until it's filthy and then, in a panic in the morning before school cry hysterically that they have nothing clean to wear.
Wash those mofos again, because you didn't follow through and within two days everyone dumped that shit on the floor and walked on it and probably the cat took a piss on it too because she's a total asshole like that.
Fucking cat.
Fucking cat.
Dump that shit in a giant pile on a couch or something that's not the floor AGAIN and this time follow through and get it done because you had more plans for your life than spending every weekend sitting cross-legged on the floor of the den up to your mantits in mismatched socks.
Here's where the magic happens: first you flip those bitches the bird because you're about to fuck them up proper.
Don't get overwhelmed, it's like building a log cabin: you gotta fall the trees, cut the lengths, mill them down, etc. Many steps, do them one at a time.
Starting at at the top: adult stuff pile. If it belongs to you or your wife, throw it there. Then little girls pile. Below that, little boys pile, in the foreground we've got the household pile which means any cloths, towels, bedsheets, etc, and finally on the left you'll see The Sock Pile (more on that later).
If it's a sock, throw it on that pile and try not to get pissed off at the spongebob sock that's smiling at you like a lunatic. Don't worry, that fucking guy will get his. Just get your shit together.
Next, get your kids to come fold their own damn laundry - you're not their fucking slave! All they have to do in life is show up, eat food and watch other idiots play video games on YouTube (seriously, what's with that, that's the most boring shit I can imagine). You'll notice my younger son is wearing pants on his head. This I allow because it gives them the opportunity to goof off a little while still getting shit done. Yes, you can put pants on your head if that's what gets you going little dude.
Note I don't have a picture of my daughter doing this because I merely mentioned it in passing when they got home from school and she just went and did it, the little darling, whereas I had to stand there and supervise the boys or this little exercise would have taken the rest of the month.
It's also important that the girls fold their own laundry because I don't even know what half that shit is, let alone how to fold it or where the fuck it's supposed to go. One thing I saw was like a bolt of fabric that was sewn into a loop and had a flower stitched to it. DA FUCK IS THAT EVEN!? How do you fold it? These are not things that dudes ever have to learn, and girls will, so make them fold their own shit. But also the boys, because you don't need them growing up to be little bastards that leave their chicks to do all the laundry - you're modelling modern man behavior for them, that means taking responsibility for your own bullshit and just gettin' er dun.
Now for the socks. It's worth noting that this is the reduced fat version of our sock pile, it was once so massive that it took up an entire laundry bin. We even posted our Sockmare for sale on Kijiji, hoping someone would make some art out of it or something, but in the end I just turfed the seven thousand mismatched sockies because I got sick of finding them on EVERY FUCKING SURFACE OF THE HOUSE. This is the process I now use to prevent that situation:
Sort them into the basic colors - on the left, black, then grey, then girl's black (you can tell because even if they're black there will be little heart studs or dora the explorer faces or fucking frilly bullshit attached. Then girls white (boys don't wear white socks), then lay out all the basic colors ending finally with the technicolor nightmare striped seizure causing socks.
Even if, as in the case with "girls white", they have more than one color on them, I go by the basic color. Yes, it has a blue heel, but if you glance at it and it looks mostly white, then that's the pile to put it in. The goal here is to be able to lay them out side by side and make matching pairs, not fit them perfectly into a color wheel you're going to use to paint a picture from.
Once they're into basic color piles, start with the boys stuff. The reason is simple, it's a psychological trick you play on yourself because if you start with the girls you're more likely to jump up and flip furniture and leave to go have a rye and coke. Starting with the boys means you'll feel like you're getting shit done and will keep you motivated to get to the end.
Don't get overwhelmed, it's like building a log cabin: you gotta fall the trees, cut the lengths, mill them down, etc. Many steps, do them one at a time.
Starting at at the top: adult stuff pile. If it belongs to you or your wife, throw it there. Then little girls pile. Below that, little boys pile, in the foreground we've got the household pile which means any cloths, towels, bedsheets, etc, and finally on the left you'll see The Sock Pile (more on that later).
If it's a sock, throw it on that pile and try not to get pissed off at the spongebob sock that's smiling at you like a lunatic. Don't worry, that fucking guy will get his. Just get your shit together.
Next, get your kids to come fold their own damn laundry - you're not their fucking slave! All they have to do in life is show up, eat food and watch other idiots play video games on YouTube (seriously, what's with that, that's the most boring shit I can imagine). You'll notice my younger son is wearing pants on his head. This I allow because it gives them the opportunity to goof off a little while still getting shit done. Yes, you can put pants on your head if that's what gets you going little dude.
Note I don't have a picture of my daughter doing this because I merely mentioned it in passing when they got home from school and she just went and did it, the little darling, whereas I had to stand there and supervise the boys or this little exercise would have taken the rest of the month.
It's also important that the girls fold their own laundry because I don't even know what half that shit is, let alone how to fold it or where the fuck it's supposed to go. One thing I saw was like a bolt of fabric that was sewn into a loop and had a flower stitched to it. DA FUCK IS THAT EVEN!? How do you fold it? These are not things that dudes ever have to learn, and girls will, so make them fold their own shit. But also the boys, because you don't need them growing up to be little bastards that leave their chicks to do all the laundry - you're modelling modern man behavior for them, that means taking responsibility for your own bullshit and just gettin' er dun.
Now for the socks. It's worth noting that this is the reduced fat version of our sock pile, it was once so massive that it took up an entire laundry bin. We even posted our Sockmare for sale on Kijiji, hoping someone would make some art out of it or something, but in the end I just turfed the seven thousand mismatched sockies because I got sick of finding them on EVERY FUCKING SURFACE OF THE HOUSE. This is the process I now use to prevent that situation:
Sort them into the basic colors - on the left, black, then grey, then girl's black (you can tell because even if they're black there will be little heart studs or dora the explorer faces or fucking frilly bullshit attached. Then girls white (boys don't wear white socks), then lay out all the basic colors ending finally with the technicolor nightmare striped seizure causing socks.
Even if, as in the case with "girls white", they have more than one color on them, I go by the basic color. Yes, it has a blue heel, but if you glance at it and it looks mostly white, then that's the pile to put it in. The goal here is to be able to lay them out side by side and make matching pairs, not fit them perfectly into a color wheel you're going to use to paint a picture from.
Once they're into basic color piles, start with the boys stuff. The reason is simple, it's a psychological trick you play on yourself because if you start with the girls you're more likely to jump up and flip furniture and leave to go have a rye and coke. Starting with the boys means you'll feel like you're getting shit done and will keep you motivated to get to the end.
A note about matching socks:
Just because they're mostly the same color does not mean they match. Don't be a dick. The socks above, although both from the Black Sock Pile(tm) are NOT A FUCKING MATCH DUMBASS. They are different sizes, made of different cotton and they are going to feel goddamn weird if you put them on your feet. Making them match is not about looking cool, nobody's gonna see your stupid socks under your pants and shoes, but you (or your little dudes) will FEEL that one goes halfway up the calf and the other is stuck at the top of your shoe. This will fuck your whole day up.
That's how you do it. Even if you always buy the same brand, your socks will have generations where some are six months older than others, which means they've had six months of sweaty fungus feet and washings happen to them and they'll be at different stages in their lifecycle which means they will FEEL DIFFERENT and again, that's gonna mess with your mojo. Take the five minutes to properly match them and you'll appreciate it all day every day.
Check that shit out! That, my friends, is a drawer full of clean, matched socks. For the next week at least you will not have to scavenge for a pair, and that feels awesome. Take a moment to congratulate yourself, most of this shit wasn't of your creation but the reward, besides being able to walk around the room next to the laundry area without stepping on textiles is that when you get up you can slide your sock drawer open and there's a whole pile of awesome waiting to slide onto your footsies.
At the end, you'll have a few stragglers. What happened to their matches? Who the fuck knows, it's a mystery that's right up there with how the pyramids were made and what looking for eggs has to do with zombie Jesus rising from the grave. You have to live in the moment dude, and at this moment you have these leftovers. Put them in a seperete spot and if their match doesn't turn up by the the next time you go through this ordeal, THROW THEM THE FUCK OUT, otherwise you'll end up with another goddamn basket full of fucking bullshit socks that end up just spread over everywhere.
Where the fuck did THIS come from? I haven't had a kid who could fit this on anything put their nose for at least five years. This is not the time to get sentimental, however gentlemen, you gotta be ruthless if you ever wanna see your floor again so take just a moment to go "aww my babies were so little and cute once upon a time back when they didn't talk back or complain about homework!" and then stuff that shit into a garbage bag before anyone else sees it and decides they wanna have it cast on bronze or some similarly stupid shit.
This is the part we saved for last, because it is the most daunting, soul crushing bullshit domestic activity ever sentenced upon humankind: sorting girls socks. Again, it's worth reiterating that this is but a fraction of the fuckers we had a few months ago. There's that Spongebob sock again, and in all seriousness, fuck him and his condescending smile, he's obviously orphaned and will soon be joining his other homies in the trashbin.
I don't ever recall Pipi Longstocking staying here for a sleepover but this is exactly the kind of sock I would never buy my daughters. It looks like the wicked witch of the west's gay sister was a guest over Christmas. Interestingly, it was one of the only girls socks I could find a match for, so, for now at least, it survives for another week.
You're almost there! With them all laid out like this, it becomes a simple matter of spotting which ones are clearly unlike the others. These are the girls stragglers.
You may be tempted at this point to give up and just torch the whole place, collect the insurance money and elope to some place tropical, where everyone wears sandals all day and technicolor sockmares are not even a thing. Resist this urge! You are now on the home stretch, simply bundle them all up and put them into a bag-o-stragglers like you did for the dude's socks and if they don't have a match by the next time you get motivated/drunk enough that you think you can tackle the mountain of laundry that has sprung up in the past week, TOSS THOSE FUCKERS OUT.
You may be tempted to keep them as shop rags. This is a stupid idea dude, those are girls socks and as such are made of fancy composite materials that repel oil-based things you'll need shop rags for, and besides which also have buttons and flair and shit glued and stapled onto them. Turf them. Turf them and save yourself this weekly hell the following week.
Admittedly we have way more kids than most people, so if you have fewer and can keep up with this regiment every week, in a couple of short months you might find time to go fishing, hunting, growing your beard.. whatever makes you feel like the modern Grizzly Adams that you are, because you have conquered this shit show like a warrior and deserve a beer! Go have a beer!
You may be tempted to keep them as shop rags. This is a stupid idea dude, those are girls socks and as such are made of fancy composite materials that repel oil-based things you'll need shop rags for, and besides which also have buttons and flair and shit glued and stapled onto them. Turf them. Turf them and save yourself this weekly hell the following week.
Admittedly we have way more kids than most people, so if you have fewer and can keep up with this regiment every week, in a couple of short months you might find time to go fishing, hunting, growing your beard.. whatever makes you feel like the modern Grizzly Adams that you are, because you have conquered this shit show like a warrior and deserve a beer! Go have a beer!
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