Where Did You Put My Underwear?

Here is a copy of my column in the July edition of the The Murrieta Bugle:

How difficult is it to sort, fold, and properly distribute the laundry? Evidently, in my household of nine, it's impossible.

I'm more than happy to wash several giant loads of laundry every other day. When it comes out of the dryer, it's stacked sky high on our couch. For a day and a half (longer on weekends), we're constantly shifting the clothes from one side to the other so we can make room to sit.

Before it's time to do laundry again, I have some of the boys fold. They don't fight with each other about who's doing the most work anymore. They grew tired of losing privileges. Now they debate because one likes to sort it before they fold, while the other firmly believes that it's more efficient to sort after. When they ask my opinion, my response is, "I don't care how you do it, just fold the laundry and put it away." It helps to add, "In a minute, I'm going to set the timer." That usually inspires them to miraculously compromise on the spot.

Distributing the newly folded laundry properly, however, is a concept that continues to elude them. How hard could it be to differentiate my older daughter's clothing from the baby's? One wears big pink clothes and the other small pink ones. Never fail, the baby's pile will include a shirt big enough to cover her knees.

I've been given the boys' undergarments and they get mine (which, to clarify, look nothing like theirs). My husband doesn't fit into the size 10 shirts that show up on the bed, and his supposed dress socks are so small that they'd cut off his circulation. My older son finds size 7 pants in his stack and my teenager frequently asks the boys, "Where did you put my underwear?"

But recently, I discovered the strangest mix-up ever. With wet hands, I blindly reached into the cupboard under my kitchen sink, where I keep stacks of fresh towels. Instead of a white fluffy cloth, I pulled out a pair of my teenager's underwear! Bending to peer inside, I discovered his unmentionables piled over his socks on top of my otherwise clean towels. "I found them!" I shouted, stifling a chuckle.


Look for my column next month in both the Temecula and Murrieta editions.