Washing Wishing and Clothes Rage
When did my washing basket get so full?
I didn’t think I owned so many clothes. Well actually, I don’t. My partner has every item of clothing he has owned since he was 15, and Nancy has enough clothes to dress about 16 children a day for a year. Looking in my washing basket is like rummaging through a charity shop bin.
I’d even forgotten that I owned some of the stuff in there.
The washing basket is full, yet I seem to do a wash every single day!
It is one of life conundrums.
A bit like why you can never find a pair of socks and why the pair of tights you manage to find always has a massive hole in the crotch.
And yes, I’ll wear them, holes and all.
One major issue is that we don’t have a tumble dryer, meaning that drying clothes in winter is at a premium.
If and when the sun comes out, instead of rushing to get to the pub I am rushing down to the washing machine to wash some of the mountain of clothes.
I’ve become obsessed, washing until every peg has been used. I even started to use other implements to peg the washing out, like like plastic grips you get from ikea to keep packets closed.
Soon my garden was literally covered in washing. People told me to stop, but I just kept thinking of the sun, and it’s special clothes drying powers.
Once it’s dry, it’s where the hell to put it, and then assessing exactly what I’ve got to wear, which isn’t much.
Worst thing of all, I hate everything I own. I don’t want to wear it. Yet I don’t have enough clothes not to wear these clothes.
I get clothes rage. I pick out a top, and decide I hate it with every fibre of my body, throw it back into the drawer and try and fit into something else that I hate a bit less.
And then I will do that until everything has been worn and I have to wear this top I hate, and I feel so miserable and grumpy for the whole day.
I have started to throw some of these clothes away, or take them to the charity shop if they are good enough.
I am slowly building up a supply of clothes I actually do like. I think it’s been so long since I cared about what I wear, that when I look at some of my old clothes it just reminds me of other times in my life, or perhaps why the hell did I ever buy some of this stuff.
The last two years have been all so hectic, it’s strange to think it’s taken me two years to start thinking about how I look again. That may sound vain but I mean it in a “taking care of myself” way. I feel more myself now than I everywhere done, really. Time to update the wardrobe to match.
Better leave it there for as the saying goes, when the sun shines, you’ve got to put another washing load on.