Dear Laundry,

Hey, I just wanted to say thanks for always being there for me. I just can’t quit you, no matter how hard I try.

I’m sorry I get mad at you sometimes it’s just…I need space, you know? Even when I go away for a day or two, I can always count on you, waiting patiently, for my attention. You don’t mind chilling all clean in a basket while I pretend you don’t exist. You don’t mind when I leave you in the dryer and forget about you until I wash some of your friends. Heck even when you’re overflowing in the hamper, you don’t get mad me. You just wait until I’m ready, which is true compassion. Clean, dirty, left in the washer so I have to wash you again…you just stay. Day after day. Week after week. Month after month. For the rest of my life until I die. Dang, Laundry. That’s some real devotion there. 

You don’t happen to know Dinner, do you? She’s not quite as…zen as you are, Laundry. She’s a little more demanding and pretty possessive actually. Between you and me, Dinner can be kind of be a b*tch. But I still gotta chill with Dinner, even when she’s being a total b. She’s not like you, Laundry. She can’t be left alone, not even for one day. Very needy. And a total diva to boot.

She constantly needs to be coddled with options and demands I shop for her at least once a week and then half the time she just lets herself go to waste because God forbid she hang out with Leftovers while I take a night off to see Bookclub. But do you think Dinner cares about my needs? No. In fact, lately, all Dinner does is get upset that it’s Chicken. Again. As if Chicken is going to be her ruination. As if Chicken is some sort of gateway to Liver.

Well, guess what? I’m done being ashamed of Chicken. Chicken gets me. Chicken is low maintenance. Chicken is adaptable to my needs and if Dinner is going to demand nightly visitation and weekly shopping, I’m bringing Chicken whenever I want, however, I want. Dinner even expects me to be perfectly punctual each night and if I dare be a little early or a little late, there’s no compassion. There’s no understanding. There’s just interrogation. Where here have you been? What have you been doing? Who were you with? I mean she literally doesn’t do crap all day except sit around and wait for me then conveniently forgets that I’m also dealing with Breakfast. And Lunch. And Snacks. Snacks alone thinks he might die if we don’t hang out seven times a day but at least he only needs a minute of my time. At least he’s not sucking the soul out of my life.

I’m beginning to think that Dinner and I might need a trial separation. 

But don’t worry Laundry. I could never abandon you like that. I don’t need Dinner the way I need you because frankly…I’ve got Popcorn. But without you, Laundry, I have nothing. I know it might not always feel like it, but…I see you. I support you. And always remember—I will get to you. Eventually.

I’ll check in with you later. I gotta go see what’s up with Dishwasher. He’s so full of it.

Stay folded.

Love,

Me