The Washing Never Ends!: An Autobiography

I love my partner. I really do. I love when we wake up together on the weekends. I love his tickly moustache. I love the way he picks me up and spins me around.

But sometimes he really drives me crazy, and this is only made worse by the never ending piles of laundry that I have to wash, 90% of which belongs to him.

With his job, as well as the fact that he is a stinky boy living in a hot, humid climate, dirty washing seems to accumulate faster that humanly possible. At work he has to change two or three times a day, plus he changes when he gets home, and puts on his pyjamas before bed.

Then I have to add in the towels he uses for swimming, the sheets that get dirty a million times quicker because of the amount of dirt and sand that he sheds all over the house.

I feels like as soon as I have finished all the washing, folded everything neatly and put is away I find a stash of socks under the bed that have multiplied during the night, or a mountain of stinky PT clothes dumped in the laundry sink.

Every morning I put on a load of laundry, but the time I go to bed the dirty clothes have invaded my house and are strewn all over the floor.

Is this just an army boy thing? Or maybe my boyfriend is just genetically predisposed to leaving clothes lying around the house.

I’m sure one day I’ll work out why he has to make my eternal laundry duties even more difficult, but for now, I have to go hang out the washing.




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