One morning after opening his empty dresser drawer, he decided he was going to have one special outfit that was all tattered, torn and shabby looking that he would put on as a signal to me that this had to be laundry day. I again suggested all that was not necessary — perhaps if he just bought twenth-five changes of clothes it would be much simpler for both of us. But the cynic in him believed that on the twenty-sixth day he would still need this `tattered outfit' to get the message across. I didn't laugh this time! It seemed to be getting more serious. In fact, two months ago I had to call him at work just to let him hear the swishing sound of the washing machine in action before he would consent to come home.
To make the job more pleasant I tried washing every Monday and Thursday without fail so there wouldn't be such a volume. But every morning seemed to be Monday, and the following day was always Thursday. I didn't know what happened to the other days — but they must have been there because the clothes reflected it.
I also tried making laundry day fun. I painted the basement bright colors, put in an extension phone, brought down a radio, a portable tape recorder and all my arts and crafts supplies. I wanted the act of going down to do the laundry to become a positive experience. And it was. I crocheted two vests, became current in all the world events, talked to friends I hadn't heard from in ages... and when I ran out of underpants, I finally did the laundry!
The kids never minded the laundry situation because it would be so long between wash days that they didn't recognize their outfits anymore and I could tell them I was buying new things for them. Then they got older and realized that for two days before `new clothes' day this funny box in the basement would rumble and Mom would disappear.
I woke one morning to find a note saying, "I ran out of undershirts last week; the only dress shirt left had no buttons on it, and I had to use my wide tie as a belt to hold up my eighth grade baseball uniform pants to work. This is it!" Defensively I countered, "Well, why didn't you tell me you were running low on clothes?" He said, "Because I thought you would have guessed it last week when I had to wear the jeweled Christmas tree skirt like a cape to Sam's retirement dinner, and tell the guys I was on my way to a Knights of Columbus parade." I was so delighted that he had finally broken out of his conservative style of dress that I hadn't even given it a thought...although the strand of little Italian lights that trailed behind him did make me a little curious.
His boss informed him that while he thought my wedding dress was stunning, the office insurance did not cover anyone tripping over a lace train...not to mention his lower productivity rate when he had to read through the sequins on the veil.
For an intelligent guy it surprises me that he hasn't figured out that if the laundry gets done when my underpants run out, all he really has to do is help that situation along...start wearing some of mine. (And after the wedding dress and the Christmas tree skirt, who would even notice if he moved a little slower and spoke a tone higher on some days?) Until he figures this out, I will continue to make room on the shelves for the awards he's winning for `most unique dresser' in the office...and be grateful that at least one of us is getting some wear out of my wedding dress.
So as it stands, laundry day is still a National Holiday at our home...but guess who's the only one who doesn't dress for the occasion. I mean, really, when you wear a wedding dress to work where can you possibly go from there?!!!!