Dancing in Socks Guy said last night that living with me has been good for him in many ways, aside from having an enthusiastic foodie who likes sports, indoors and otherwise. Meaning, when you live with someone, you have to live up to certain responsibilities, like cleaning the house and taking out the garbage. Things that are easy to let slide when it's just you and the cats.
For me, the thing that living with Dancing in Socks Guy has really improved is how I do the laundry. By "improved" I mean getting it done before I'm down to the point where my clothing choices are limited to a sports bra, that last, really uncomfortable pair of underpants, leopard print palazzo pants four sizes too big that I kept to remind me of why I low carb, and my Maxwell Equations t-shirt.
Now, in fairness to me, I did not have access to laundry facilities in my last place. To do laundry meant hauling the basket down two flights of stairs, down a steep driveway, into my car and then into the laundromat. Which was expensive. So, I did laundry only when I absolutely had to.
Here, it's right outside my door, and while it's coin-op, it's incredibly cheap so I don't have to shove forty pounds of clothes into a ten pound washer any longer. And now, I actually do it once a week like a normal person would. Oh, I haven't reformed completely, I don't bother separating darks and whites and I use way too much detergent, but, you know ... baby steps.
This is just one of the many differences between me and Dancing in Socks Guy. Now, I like a neat house. A place for everything and everything in its place. He basically never unpacked from his last move, happily living amongst what I affectionately call his cardboard box collection, moving from room to room via tiny little aisles between boxes.
As noted above, I have a very casual, laissez-faire attitude towards laundry. He, despite his complete disregard for clutter and clean dishes, takes laundry very seriously. Not only does he separate darks and lights, he has a process for washing the latter which he refers to as his "sure-fire method for getting whites really white" and which I just call "Byzantine."
It involves a pre-soak step with bleach and hot water in the mop bucket (yeah, really), followed by a double wash cycle in the machine, soap and bleach for the first go-round and just hot water! Don't use soap in the second cycle, sweetie, just hot water! for the second. I mean, hell -- I'd do all that for a friend. And I do understand why you are supposed to wash lights and darks separately, even if I don't actually do it myself. But all this? For underpants and towels?
This is why we do our laundry separately, and why he does the towels and the sheets. Because I won't do them right. But that's okay, it's why I'm in charge of the grocery shopping, because he'll come home with nothing but cereal, Red Bull and beer. But that's okay. We all have our strengths and weaknesses.
Elle
For me, the thing that living with Dancing in Socks Guy has really improved is how I do the laundry. By "improved" I mean getting it done before I'm down to the point where my clothing choices are limited to a sports bra, that last, really uncomfortable pair of underpants, leopard print palazzo pants four sizes too big that I kept to remind me of why I low carb, and my Maxwell Equations t-shirt.
Now, in fairness to me, I did not have access to laundry facilities in my last place. To do laundry meant hauling the basket down two flights of stairs, down a steep driveway, into my car and then into the laundromat. Which was expensive. So, I did laundry only when I absolutely had to.
Here, it's right outside my door, and while it's coin-op, it's incredibly cheap so I don't have to shove forty pounds of clothes into a ten pound washer any longer. And now, I actually do it once a week like a normal person would. Oh, I haven't reformed completely, I don't bother separating darks and whites and I use way too much detergent, but, you know ... baby steps.
This is just one of the many differences between me and Dancing in Socks Guy. Now, I like a neat house. A place for everything and everything in its place. He basically never unpacked from his last move, happily living amongst what I affectionately call his cardboard box collection, moving from room to room via tiny little aisles between boxes.
As noted above, I have a very casual, laissez-faire attitude towards laundry. He, despite his complete disregard for clutter and clean dishes, takes laundry very seriously. Not only does he separate darks and lights, he has a process for washing the latter which he refers to as his "sure-fire method for getting whites really white" and which I just call "Byzantine."
It involves a pre-soak step with bleach and hot water in the mop bucket (yeah, really), followed by a double wash cycle in the machine, soap and bleach for the first go-round and just hot water! Don't use soap in the second cycle, sweetie, just hot water! for the second. I mean, hell -- I'd do all that for a friend. And I do understand why you are supposed to wash lights and darks separately, even if I don't actually do it myself. But all this? For underpants and towels?
This is why we do our laundry separately, and why he does the towels and the sheets. Because I won't do them right. But that's okay, it's why I'm in charge of the grocery shopping, because he'll come home with nothing but cereal, Red Bull and beer. But that's okay. We all have our strengths and weaknesses.
Elle
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