laundry

I like doing laundry. I really, really do. I think it has to do with some great laundry memories as a child. When laundry needed to be folded my mom would dump the warm laundry on top of us kids and we'd stay still until the heat went away and then fold it. Or more often then not, jumped up to play and left the cold laundry in a pile for my mom to tend to. We also had a clothesline when I was little and I can remember sheets flapping in the wind as we played out in the yard or the crispy feeling that I hated when jeans were dried on the line. Now, I love laundry for those memories and the one constant that it is, no matter our address, paycheck, or number of family members. Folding laundry often starts conversations between Derek and I about the way it was done in the many different places we've lived.

I started doing laundry as a teenager. I didn't want "my stuff" to get "messed up." And that's where it began. On my mission in Chile, we paid a sister in the ward to do our laundry. I remember laughing weekly about how EVERYTHING came back starched and ironed.


The laundry didn't increase terribly when Derek and I married. It just went from a few small weekly loads to a few large weekly loads. We lived in basement apartment for a couple of months before leaving for Mexico. We rented the apartment from a single guy who lived upstairs and would use his washer and dryer. At one point Rando's (the guy upstairs) dryer broke. After that happened our apartment was one big drying rack (as seen in the photo above.) It seemed like the dryer was broken forever.

In Mexico we had to get creative. We only had a scooter for transportation and we used to jam the dirty laundry bag between Derek and I. I would inevitably be holding on for my dear life off the back of the rack on the scooter. In the picture below we're going to the beach, but it's just to give you an idea of the precarious situation I was in on laundry night. What made matters worse is that we would go grocery shopping while waiting for our laundry to be done and we'd go home with not only a bag of clean clothes between us, but also balancing grocery bags on the handle bars, my arms, and between Derek's legs. What a wonderful time in our lives!

Next came Grand Cayman, with a variety of laundry situations. Our first apartment had a stacked unit. Unfortunately we didn't live there long due to a voyeur who frequented our apartment. We then moved in with a friend. As newly married couple we found ourselves with a roommate and it was back to checking if the washer was already being used. Finally we moved into a 400 sq ft apartment with no roommate and no voyeur. Thank goodness they didn't try to put a washer and dryer in there, our own stuff barely fit. It was in a triplex and there was a convenient laundry room right next to our unit. We'd save up our quarters to go do our laundry next door.


We moved back to the U.S. and were in an apartment shortly. Having lived abroad for the first 2 1/2 years of marriage we didn't have an appliances to call our own. We would take our dirty laundry to the best laundromat to date...Ty and Masha's house. Thanks so much for letting us impose for the 6 months before getting our house.


In the 2 years we've been in this home our numbers have grown and so has our laundry load. Currently we're up to 10 loads a week. How did two little babies multiply the laundry so rapidly?


So, what memories does laundry stir up for you?