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So, since I was in the sixth grade I've been doing my own laundry rather than let my father do it (he does the laundry for the rest of the family). Why? Well, basically, he sucks at it.
- I could NEVER count on him to get my laundry back to me when I needed it. Even if I made a point of telling him I was out of clean stuff he wouldn't do the laundry until he was damn well ready, and we were ALWAYS out of sync on this. Even if I brought my laundry down with a few days worth of clean stuff left, he'd still not get it back to me when needed. Even if I told him in no uncertain terms that I NEEDED something washed ASAP, it wouldn't get done.
- the laundry would NEVER be sorted properly. I do mean NEVER. Literally EVERY time I got my stuff back I'd have to go through it and cull out items that did not belong to me. I am dead serious when I say I used to get at least one pair of my MOM'S UNDERWEAR in my clean laundry EVERY time. Then I would have to go through my brother's clean laundry to reclaim my stuff that had ended up in his pile.
(side rant: my brother NEVER understood this, and when he got my stuff in his pile he would INSIST it was his "because it was in his pile" even if it was something he'd never worn before. I once got into a huge fight with him when he got and wore one of my favorite shirts and refused to give it back to me because he insisted it was his)
- despite going through the rest of thhe laundry, items of mine would still disappear. For instance, when my little league team won the town championship we all got t-shirts. I didn't get to wear mine even once because it vanished in the laundry, and my father insisted he gave it back to me. This was especially upsetting because I batted in the winning run in game 1 of that series.
Complaining got me nowhere. He'd always fall back on the excuse of how (at the time) my brother and I were growing so fast he could never keep strait all the new stuff my mother was buying us. Really? Is this why you thought mom's underwear went in my pile? It actually got so bad that my mother bought a permanent fabric marker and labeled each and every item with a D or an M and he would STILL not sort it tint, and STILL fall back on that tired old excuse.
So finally I got fed up with it and just started doing my own laundry. Trouble is, it took forever to get him to realize this fact, so if I wasn't super prompt about collecting my stuff when it was done, he'd swoop in and take it, and then we'd have the same problems all over again.
And to this day, if we happen to need to do laundry at the same time, I need to be extra vigilant to make sure he doesn't mix my stuff in with the rest. I've told him countless times that if he needs to take my stuff out of the dryer (or move it from the washer to the dryer) that's fine but do NOT under ANY AND ALL CIRCUMSTANCES mix my stuff into the rt fo the families stuff.
He has proven time and time again that he can't follow this simple instruction, even though for a long time now I've had my own laundry basket purchased with my own money which is totally different than the other baskets in the house.
So anyway, last week I needed to run some laundry and after putting it in the dryer I had to go somewhere. I knew my father was doing laundry that day, so I left my basket down there and told him that if I wasn't back before the dryer finished, he could just throw my stuff into my basket and I'd collect it when I got home, and I specifically said to NOT mix it in with anything else.
Sure enough, when i got back, my clothes were gone and my basket was empty.
me: did you mix my laundry in with a differnt load of clean stuff??
Dad:......I think I did.
Me:
I found the basket with my stuff, pulled it all out, and took my stuff upstairs.
Fast forward to Saturday (the day before mothers day). I was heading out to get a gift for my mother when i saw my black button down work shirt hanging on the basement doorknob. I took it and added it to some other stuff i needed to put away.
Later, I'm just leaving the mall with the pandora charm my mother asked for when my cell phone rang. It was my father asking me where "his" shirt went.
To make an already long story short, he thought the shirt I'd just taken was his, when it wasn't. He then pretty much accused me of taking a black Aero brand shirt from the basket that he'd added my clothes to the week before. I outright told him that first of all, I didnt have the Aero shirt (the one he thought was his was Croft & Barrow) and that if he had just kept my stuff separate like I'd told him to this wouldn't have happened. Exasperated, he asked if he could "borrow" the C&B shirt because he "needed" it for his chorus concert. I should've said no just on general principle but I agreed.
There was more to it than that, though. I damn near flipped my lid at him because he kept insisting that I had his shirt and that I'd claimed it was mine and this was all my fault, when I did no such thing and it was actually HIS fault for not being able to comprehend simple instructions.
Last night he told me he found the missing shirt......in my kid brother's clean laundry.
In other words, he put HIS OWN SHIRT into the wrong fucking laundry pile. You can't even keep track of your own clothes? Pathetic. Turning around and blaming it on me is unacceptable.
He did apologize, but come on, this is something that should never have happened.
End rant.
- I could NEVER count on him to get my laundry back to me when I needed it. Even if I made a point of telling him I was out of clean stuff he wouldn't do the laundry until he was damn well ready, and we were ALWAYS out of sync on this. Even if I brought my laundry down with a few days worth of clean stuff left, he'd still not get it back to me when needed. Even if I told him in no uncertain terms that I NEEDED something washed ASAP, it wouldn't get done.
- the laundry would NEVER be sorted properly. I do mean NEVER. Literally EVERY time I got my stuff back I'd have to go through it and cull out items that did not belong to me. I am dead serious when I say I used to get at least one pair of my MOM'S UNDERWEAR in my clean laundry EVERY time. Then I would have to go through my brother's clean laundry to reclaim my stuff that had ended up in his pile.
(side rant: my brother NEVER understood this, and when he got my stuff in his pile he would INSIST it was his "because it was in his pile" even if it was something he'd never worn before. I once got into a huge fight with him when he got and wore one of my favorite shirts and refused to give it back to me because he insisted it was his)
- despite going through the rest of thhe laundry, items of mine would still disappear. For instance, when my little league team won the town championship we all got t-shirts. I didn't get to wear mine even once because it vanished in the laundry, and my father insisted he gave it back to me. This was especially upsetting because I batted in the winning run in game 1 of that series.
Complaining got me nowhere. He'd always fall back on the excuse of how (at the time) my brother and I were growing so fast he could never keep strait all the new stuff my mother was buying us. Really? Is this why you thought mom's underwear went in my pile? It actually got so bad that my mother bought a permanent fabric marker and labeled each and every item with a D or an M and he would STILL not sort it tint, and STILL fall back on that tired old excuse.
So finally I got fed up with it and just started doing my own laundry. Trouble is, it took forever to get him to realize this fact, so if I wasn't super prompt about collecting my stuff when it was done, he'd swoop in and take it, and then we'd have the same problems all over again.
And to this day, if we happen to need to do laundry at the same time, I need to be extra vigilant to make sure he doesn't mix my stuff in with the rest. I've told him countless times that if he needs to take my stuff out of the dryer (or move it from the washer to the dryer) that's fine but do NOT under ANY AND ALL CIRCUMSTANCES mix my stuff into the rt fo the families stuff.
He has proven time and time again that he can't follow this simple instruction, even though for a long time now I've had my own laundry basket purchased with my own money which is totally different than the other baskets in the house.
So anyway, last week I needed to run some laundry and after putting it in the dryer I had to go somewhere. I knew my father was doing laundry that day, so I left my basket down there and told him that if I wasn't back before the dryer finished, he could just throw my stuff into my basket and I'd collect it when I got home, and I specifically said to NOT mix it in with anything else.
Sure enough, when i got back, my clothes were gone and my basket was empty.
me: did you mix my laundry in with a differnt load of clean stuff??
Dad:......I think I did.
Me:
I found the basket with my stuff, pulled it all out, and took my stuff upstairs.
Fast forward to Saturday (the day before mothers day). I was heading out to get a gift for my mother when i saw my black button down work shirt hanging on the basement doorknob. I took it and added it to some other stuff i needed to put away.
Later, I'm just leaving the mall with the pandora charm my mother asked for when my cell phone rang. It was my father asking me where "his" shirt went.
To make an already long story short, he thought the shirt I'd just taken was his, when it wasn't. He then pretty much accused me of taking a black Aero brand shirt from the basket that he'd added my clothes to the week before. I outright told him that first of all, I didnt have the Aero shirt (the one he thought was his was Croft & Barrow) and that if he had just kept my stuff separate like I'd told him to this wouldn't have happened. Exasperated, he asked if he could "borrow" the C&B shirt because he "needed" it for his chorus concert. I should've said no just on general principle but I agreed.
There was more to it than that, though. I damn near flipped my lid at him because he kept insisting that I had his shirt and that I'd claimed it was mine and this was all my fault, when I did no such thing and it was actually HIS fault for not being able to comprehend simple instructions.
Last night he told me he found the missing shirt......in my kid brother's clean laundry.
In other words, he put HIS OWN SHIRT into the wrong fucking laundry pile. You can't even keep track of your own clothes? Pathetic. Turning around and blaming it on me is unacceptable.
He did apologize, but come on, this is something that should never have happened.
End rant.
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