Saturday, February 21, 2009


In our house the laundry area is in the basement. When I do laundry, which is a lot since Jonathan goes through at least two outfits a day, I try my hardest to bring the laundry upstairs when it is dry. If I don't bring it up it stays downstairs in baskets or the dryer and that corner of the basement becomes our closet. Jonathan does not mind this nearly as much as I do. For the past few days he has been heading downstairs every night to get scrubs for the next morning. Why he doesn't bring everything up at once I will never understand.

Since I don't have a pajama-like uniform to wear to work every day I have to think about what I am going to wear. I absolutely hate going down to the basement in the morning. The entire house is freezing because we turn the heat off at night and the basement is about 10 degrees cooler. I have started sending Jonathan to the basement to fetch clothes for me. You would think all these trips up and down our hellish basement stairs (they are not built to code) would cause him to bring all the laundry up at once. But no, it continues to languish in the basement day after day.

I would like to do an experiment wherein I leave all our clean clothes downstairs and see how long it takes before he gets frustrated and asks why he has to go downstairs to get dressed or find clothes. However, he would probably stop fetching my clothes long before he got tired of retrieving his.

When I do laundry this weekend I know I am going to have to bring it upstairs and fold it. But it's been fun to watch my husband approach his basket of scrubs with confusion each night this week. (I let him keep his scrubs on top of the dresser because it's easier for him when he's on call and I realized I had other battles to fight.) Here is our nightly conversation:
"Hey babe? I need scrubs."
I keep reading.
"Are there scrubs in the dryer downstairs?"
I shrug.
"I guess I will go check downstairs. You haven't done laundry recently?"
I shake my head.

He goes downstairs and returns with a pair of scrubs and a triumphant look on his face. Perhaps it's the glory of the search that keeps him from bringing the laundry up.

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