Tag Archives: laundry basket

Household Tip #77

I named this blog entry the 77th household tip because of the Star Wars lesson.  They started with episode four and years later made zillions of dollars filling in the first three movies.  Since I started with number seventy-seven, I am guaranteed that public will demand that I fill in the previous editions.  I’ll be rolling in the cash.  Genius.  Wait a minute.  No one is paying me for this blog.  Not Genius.

I don’t carry my laundry basket up the stairs often.  It’s not a chore that brings me joy—unlike cleaning a toilet.  Now there is a chore that I just can’t get enough of.  The cleaning part doesn’t produce the joy.  No one wants to clean a toilet.  The joy comes from the sitting on a cleanest toilet seat in the whole world—knowing that your butt has been placed on a surface that is 99.99% free of all household germs.  At least that’s what the bottle of cleaner claims.  A movie theater seat is only 23.78% free of all household (and public) germs.

Back to household tip #77.  Like the Dos Equis man:  I don’t always carry my laundry basket up the stairs, but when I do, I make sure the clothes and towels stand and teeter at least three feet above the height of the basket.

In my household, the four of us each have our own basket sitting next to the dryer in the basement.  When we are folding the laundry, the item gets placed into the owner’s basket.  That way, each person becomes responsible for bringing their own laundry up the stairs.  My basket often stands towering over all the others with towels, jeans, shirts, socks, and underwear.  This tower of clothes isn’t necessarily a sign of laziness.  Oh no sir.  I see it more of a challenge and a good work out.  I’m a tall guy, so if I extend my arms as low as they can go, lean slightly backwards, and use my chest as a place to support the tower of laundry, I can carry this load up two flights of stairs and receive an excellent bicep workout in the process.

So here is where household tip number 77 comes in.  When constructing the tower of clothing, and preparing for the journey up to the bedroom, do not complete the tower by placing underwear on the very top.  I did this the other day and I didn’t work out so well.  After I squatted down, placed my hands on the basket handles, adjusted my grip, and propelled the laundry tower upward like an Olympic weight lifter, the underwear at the very top of the pile was exactly at face level.  Sure, they were clean underwear, but they were still full grown men’s underwear right in my face.  In my face!  Let the challenge continue.

Well the tower of clothing started to wobble as I placed my foot on the first step.  I quickly corrected for what could have been a catastrophic-laundry-failing event by slamming my nose and chin downward onto the top of the stack.  More determined than ever, I trudged up the first flight of stairs with a renewed sense of determination and a pair of whitey-tighties pressed against my face blocking my breathing passages.

Breaking into a mild sweat, I cleared the final step of the basement flight of stairs.  I was now maneuvering around the foyer toward the upstairs flight of steps.  As I was approaching the front door with underwear pressing into my face, slowly becoming part of my inner soul, the doorbell rang.

Some of my preteen children’s friends have an annoying habit of ringing the doorbell and then immediately pressing their faces to the glass in order to watch inside the house to see who is coming to answer their call.

I continued breaking in a sweat while carrying this amazing tower of laundry.  The door bell startled me.  The big kid face pressed into the window startled me even more.  The handle of the basket sliped from my sweaty grasp.  The beautifully arranged tower of clothing collapses, covering an awesome amount of floor space in my foyer.  And I am left standing there with a pair of my own underwear clinging to the perspiration forming on my face.

I look toward the window to see this kid staring at my underwear decorated face with this odd freighted look on his glass pressed face.  He screams and runs off.

Household Tip #77:  How to teach children to ring a doorbell and respect the privacy of those inside.

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