Confession Time: I Hate Doing Laundry

There will never be a day where I feel anything but seething hatred while doing laundry. It is the worst. It's the repeat offender of household chores. I cannot be alone in this. Y'all, I hate doing laundry.

When you were a kid, you thought The Never Ending Story was a movie with some magical hybrid dog that took you on enchanted rides above the clouds. As an adult, you know the REAL never ending story is that load of laundry waiting for you when you get home.

I haaaaaaaaaate doing laundry. A small part of my soul dies with each load to be sorted, washed, folded, and put away. There is always, ALWAYS more laundry to do. In our house, I wash at least one load of clothes every other day.

Why so many clothes? I have a toddler. I don't think I have to explain that any further--unless you don't have a toddler. If that's the case: you free to babysit tonight?

I hate laundry. It's such a thankless chore. I can scrub the linoleum of my kitchen floor until I look like I just took a Zumba class in a swamp, but it doesn't bother me at all. I like cleaning things because I can stand back and admire my work. That's not possible with laundry.

I can spend all afternoon washing and folding and blah blah blah and feel as if I have accomplished NOTHING.

And matching socks? Is there a more menial task? NOPE. Hell for me would be a hot room with no A/C, Gilbert Godfried singing the Dora the Explorer theme, and my being forced to match socks for all eternity. I detest it THAT much.

Want to know the worst part? I have a butt ton of laundry to do when I get home. Hold me.

(I realize that I am fortunate to have access to a washer and dryer in my home. I'm lucky to have clothes to wear and water with which to wash said clothes. Many people around the world don't have these things, and I try to keep that in perspective.)