Posted by Lina Hashem

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Laundry Purgatory
WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 28 2009

If Dante had been a woman, there would have been some differences.

For one, there would have been another level of purgatory: The Laundry Mountains.

Those relegated to this fate would face a towering mountain of laundry, shovel it into the washer and then the dryer, fold it and put it away – while young mountains of laundry sprout up all around them.

I’m not sure which sin would warrant this level of purgatory, but I must have committed it.

I got sick a couple weeks ago. Spent a few days in bed. I was so glad my kids are old enough now that I could do that. (Being ill with small children climbing all over you, cheerfully trying to play with your ears, asking for snacks and – horror of horrors – eventually getting sick themselves is a different level of purgatory.)  Being 5 and 7, mine could entertain themselves, understand not to bother mommy unless blood was involved, and even get their own snacks. I saw an illicit level of less-than-healthy snack wrappers around when I ventured out of bed, but I didn’t care. It bought me peace.

However, the time a mom spends in bed, she pays for many-fold when she gets up.

I had already been behind in the laundry before I got sick. Afterward, the mountain stood lofty in the basement. I mustered the energy to begin putting loads through the washer and dryer, but then the mountain moved, armful by armful, to the couch in the basement. (Who says moms can’t move mountains??)  Meanwhile, however, people persisted in the wearing and dirtying of clothes, and the mound by the laundry room continued to grow.

The kids saw the situation and decided to help. They sometimes like to play “Secret Mission People.” This involves sneaking down to the basement and quietly folding the laundry on the couch. Then they sneak armfuls of it upstairs to put it away.

It’s really very sweet. But these Secret Mission People are not yet experts in the ways of laundry.

First, in order to hide the Secret Work from me, my daughter decided to organize it in piles on the floor.

The bathroom floor.

When I caught her with clean clothes spread out all around the toilet, I had to gently redirect Secret Mission Person to find a different Secret Location.

So they carried more clothes upstairs, but instead of putting them right into the drawers, they put them on the floor again—this time behind their beds.

I did find some in drawers – my drawers. I laughed – and groaned – to see my shirts jammed in sideways, smooshed together.

Imperfections aside, I need more visits from the Secret Mission People. We have moved many clothes to our drawers, but the mountains continue to grow and multiply at an alarming rate, rather like Gremlins.

(I’m not sure it’s coincidence that the movie “Gremlins” was directed by a Joe Dante.)

Unlike in normal mountain conquests, I have to get not to the top, but to the bottom. Only then will the spell be broken and the laundry’s behavior return to normal, controllable levels.

I hope I get there before the kids bring home the next round of germs.