I fondly recall a time in my life when a regular sized bottle of laundry detergent would last me an entire calendar year. Now? Dude. I’m flying through detergent as fast as Puff Daddy flies through Ciroc at an Ibizan yacht party.
Where the fuck does it all even come from?
It’s a question I’ve been asking myself every Saturday for years. But recently, I’ve shifted my focus to a different question…
HOW THE FUCK DO I GET RID OF IT ALL?
I mean, I guess I could burn it. It would be incredibly satisfying to throw all the kids’ park clothes into a pile (you know, the ones they wear to crawl through the sandbox that the neighbour’s cat uses as a litter box?), sprinkle some kerosene on there and just let it burn.
To stoke the flames, I could slowly toss in all the stuff that my boyfriend has thrown on the floor beside the hamper. Into a fire sounds like a reasonable place to throw all the clothes that weren’t quite good enough for the drawer but also weren’t quite bad enough for the laundry bin, right?
Ugh – fire is just so environmentally unfriendly. I need to do something with all this bullshit laundry that would serve the greater good of my community.
Maybe I could sew it all together to make a massive tarp. Said tarp could be used to provide shade for the entire city of Toronto on inordinately hot summer days.
Oh! Maybe I could sew it into smaller rectangles and turn it into blankets for the homeless on inordinately cold winter days!
I’d have to wash it first.
How about if I roped it all up really tight and used it to help stave off the flooding on The Toronto Island? That would be useful, right?
Or maybe I could pulverize it, turn it into some kind of dust, then turn it into some kind of cement-like substance, and then use it to fix the Gardiner Expressway or fill in the potholes on (insert any Toronto street name here).
Mmmmm… Too practical – City Hall would never go for it.
Wait a minute, how about if I combine the tarp idea with the fire idea and sew all the laundry together to make a giant hot air balloon that could carry me off to a far-away-place where only minimalists live. They could teach me how to get my entire family on board with the concept of a 5-piece-wardrobe. Maybe they could even teach me how to get an 18-month-old to hand-wash the blueberry stains out of his own onesies.
Or I guess I could just do the stupid laundry.
God damn it.
(I still like the fire idea though. Just saying.)
Featured Image: Vintage Comic Girl via Pinterest