The shirts piled up on the floor of our bedroom. The dry cleaning. It was becoming a fire hazard and a ski slope rolled into one. But my husband kept forgetting to take them in to the local cleaners. And so did I.
Finally, after a burst of semi energy, my husband gathered all of his shirts and a few of my dry clean only sweaters and threw them into a bag. There were around 6 over stuffed garbage bags. We dragged them downstairs and my husband threw them onto this couch that was sitting in our living room. A mess of a couch which was waiting to be taken to the curb for as long as the laundry was sitting on my bedroom floor waiting to be taken to the dry cleaners.
We’re neat like that.
So the laundry bags sat on this couch. And they sat. And sat.
Occasionally my husband would hint at my finding time to take his shirts to be cleaned. He was running out of things to wear to work. And often I would remind him that the couch needed to be taken to the curb. The local garbage picker was DYING for this treasure.
Yet, those bags sat. And sat. AND sat. On that couch. Which sat. And sat. AND sat. In my living room.
We decorate nice like that.
Until finally, the treadmill moved in. The only place we could put it, without schlepping it upstairs to my bedroom or putting it in the stinky basement with the turtles. The only place that really made sense. Was in the same spot where the dry cleaning sat on the couch that sat in the living room. In the perfect area to walk for miles without going anywhere.
It was time.
The couch went to the curb. Finally.
And the clothes. Were GOING to go to the dry cleaners. Except. My husband decided to throw his shirts in the laundry. Himself.
He lives on the edge like that.
So he gathered the bags. Separated light from dark. Piles of shirts everywhere.
Dry clean only shirts.
He threw a load into the washing machine. On cold.
But then. Crazy guy. He threw them into the dryer. On low.
Then, he brought all the shirts that were ready. About 20 so far. Upstairs to our bedroom where he keeps the ironing board and iron.
We’re organized like that.
He began ironing his dry clean only shirts. Proudly. Telling me that he is “over” the whole dry cleaning thing. He thinks he’ll just start doing it himself. He’ll save us a WHOLE BUNCH of money.
I nodded. And watched.
After the first shirt was ironed, he tried it on. Hmm…what’s up with this shirt? It was now a 3/4 length sleeves and half shirts.
Yeah, funny thing about dry clean only.
Generally, when you get them wet, one of the side effects is, they shrink.
He. Told me…See, that’s what happens when a man does a woman’s job.
I snorted. Yes, I did.
I’m classy like that.
But yes, he is right. As much as I hate doing laundry and have not particularly excelled in that homemaker chore, even I know not to break the main housekeeping commandment of the dry clean only tag.
It’s awesome that he saved us “a whole bunch of money” because now, he’s needing a whole bunch of new shirts.
Which is probably a good thing. Because some of those shirts that he ruined, I must say, I’m not upset to see that they shrunk to the fit a midget. Not that there is anything wrong with being a midget. But I’m just saying, my husband is NOT short. And so he can’t ever. Again. Wear those shirts.
So, they are being donated.
I’ll never have to see them. Ever. Again.
Unless I run into the midget that buys them from Salvation Army.
Lauren @ MOMMY IS ROCK N ROLL says
I have ruined so many sweaters by not following the cleaning instructions. We’re taking hundreds of dollars of beautiful cashmere and wool RUINED. But I can appreciate your husband taking the initiative to do it himself. Even if he fucked up his entire work wardrobe.
Another Suburban Mom says
One word. Dryel. That stuff is the bomb and way more convenient than dry cleaning. Also if your husband works in a place with friendly HR people, suggest to them that they get one of those services going where the drycleaning company comes and picks up and drops off your drycleaning for you. All you have to do is get it to the office.
Tara R. says
Maybe that was his plan all along. Act all helpful, but make a colossal mess and never have to do that chore ever again. Do you get to help him pick out the new clothes, sans dry clean only tags?
HaB says
Ahhhh…yes – the Dry Clean ONLY commandment of of clothing & housekeeping. I think my mother taught me that one when I was like, 12. And, I have NEVER broken it – not matter how desperate or how poor I have been – the dry clean only cloths always go the the cleaners.
And, at least your husband has enough sense to separate the lights from the darks. My husband, had pink socks for about 6 months a few years ago from one of his laundry mishaps. But – on the bright side – he learned his lesson and has not made that mistake again.
Tiaras & Tantrums says
hilarious – My husband is crazy religious about taking his dry cleaning in and picking it up. So much so that if I ask him to do something during that allotted time frame. HE.WILL.FREAK.OUT! Sometimes I do it on purpose to mess with him!
staciesmadness says
and in my house, they’d sit in bags waiting to be taken to the salvation army. they’d sit and sit AND sit.
C @ Kid Things says
I have never once taken my clothes to the dry cleaners. In fact, if it states “dry clean only” on the tag, I usually just avoid buying it altogether. Because I know myself well enough to know that I will not take it to the cleaner like I should and will throw it in the washing machine instead. And that’s just like throwing away money.
patois says
So they sat on the couch that was being donated. And they become donated as well. Perhaps that’s how the universe desired it.