By Mary Anna Violi | @Mary Anna Violi
Yes, it is true: I hate doing laundry, but I adore donning clean clothing, and therein lies the conundrum. I also despise trying to remember if it is “lies” or “lays”, which the average native English speaker likely neither remembers, nor cares, save for some uptight, full-of-oneself English teacher who tends to forget the “lie versus lay” argument is hardly a cure for something really important, like a fatal disease.
Part of my revulsion of doing laundry has to do with where the washer and dryer are in our vintage home. Whose idea was it to park the washer and dryer in the basement? I am not referring to some high falutin’ track house in a suburban development where the basement functions as a lower extension of a family room. I am talking about the non-refurbished basement in an 85-year-old home. In case the reader is curious, our money has gone to make-over the kitchen, install central air-conditioning, put in new windows in every room [and there are eleven windows alone in the front room], create more outdoor warm weather living space by building a brick patio, repairing or putting in new dry wall, and that is all I can tick off immediately.
No, a basement re-do is not on the radar. When the central a/c was installed – a new system compatible with the gas-water heating system [add a new boiler to the aforementioned litany of home upgrades in the above paragraph], the contractor asked if we had plans to remodel the basement because if we did, there would be a large problem looming regarding the enormous pillowy-silver pipes the cooling installation required. That put the kibosh on any future thoughts of actually having a nicer sort of basement.
Consequently, we trudge up and down the ancient basement stairs [note to self: best to get bids on new basement stairs], to the fairly new Maytag washer and dryer units that wash, clean, and spin dry our clothing. I should not complain, for I spent my Houston years as an apartment dweller that had to trudge to the local washeteria and wait hours for my laundry. At least in our basement laundry facility, I can avoid inclement weather. Yet this still does not completely reconcile me to my innate loathing of laundry. For the record, I hate ironing too.
Ciao for now.