A Letter to the Laundry Fairy

This post is written by Stark. Raving.Mad.Mommy.  She is a genius in several different mediums (click here to watch this video she made). We love her. She also hates my arch-nemesis Randy the Laundry Fairy. So she wrote him a letter.

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Dear Randy the Laundry Fairy,

I realize you're probably still wicked pissed off about me moving again.  I know the second-floor laundry room in our ginormous Texas house was a dream come true for you.  Except that the kitty litter boxes were in there; sorry about that.  And I know being once again relegated to the basement is upsetting, especially since the kitty litter boxes are still with you.

Randy is like this.
Only bitchier.

You're probably also annoyed that I'm still making my own laundry soap, which is then doled out from old apple juice bottles.  I know it's not as fancy as Tide or whatever, but I just can't stomach spending that much money for something I can make for approximately 10 cents per gallon.  Also, laundry detergent commercials invariably piss me off, what with their implication that I am a lesser woman and failure as a wife and mother if I don't buy Brand X Brightening, All Temperature, Eco-Friendly, Perfume-and-Dye-Free Laundry Detergent with Bleachtastic Alternative in a Pump Bottle.  That schmidt is expensive and I am still a good wife and mother without it.

The thing is, Randy, and this is really the important take-home message: you're kind of a dick.  You keep making the laundry multiply (WTF with the moldy pool towels?).  Then when I'm actually caught up on laundry, no one thanks me.  I know they think you are magically providing them with clean, folded clothes that mysteriously show up in their drawers each week with a wave of your "Clean Linen"-scented wand.

So you totally deserve the kitty litter boxes.

I'd like to point out that when I choose, I can keep up with the laundry.  When it's important, like when I'm selling a house, or packing for vacation, or when I have insomnia and nothing else to do at 3 a.m. because I don't have cable.  It's just that (and don't hate me here, Randy) laundry is pretty low on my priority list.  I have four kids and frankly I'd rather play with them and/or surf Facebook than keep up with the ever-increasing mountain of sweaty summer clothes and chlorine-infused towels.

As evidence, I present to you a photo of my beautiful, enormous Texas laundry room.  This is from when I was showing the house in a down market while single-parenting my four children.  So suck it.

I'd show pictures of my current laundry area, because I am actually caught up on laundry at the moment, but the basement in my itty-bitty rental house is pretty gnarly, and I'd rather not share.  Just trust me that there are five empty laundry baskets in this house right now.

Suck it, Randy.

xoxo,

stark. raving. mad. mommy.

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