Laundry Day!

Now that I can't write extensively about the rapture anymore because it is sooo passe, I need a new hobby.  One of my old standbys is laundry. Not.  I hate doing laundry, but the problem is, I am really obsessive about it.  Not in any way related to the frequency at which I do laundry, or anything that really has to do with responsibility or cleanliness, but more related to an obsession with my clothing.  It's not even like I have any especially nice clothing, besides lots of overpriced designer jeans that I GOT AT SUCH INCREDIBLE DISCOUNTS (and I try to wash those as little as possible anyway), but I have weird hangups on how certain types of clothing need to be washed.  And really, I only do this for my clothes.  I shrink the hell out of most of my beloved husband's things.

However, Pearce cannot be trusted to know the rules of my garment washing.  Case in point: he put his wool suit pants (DRY CLEAN ONLY, HELLO!) in the dirty clothes hamper.  This resulted in me washing and ruining them, because I blindly throw his stuff in the wash, while meticulously separating, bagging, and line-drying my things. 

So, I do all the laundry because I literally cannot handle the stress of losing control over my babies (i.e. underpants, bras, and other such delicates).  While I will usually check the lint catcher thing for cash (finders keepers!) I don't usually check pockets before washing.  That's the policy, people, deal with it!  And that's where I have gotten into trouble.

As a preface, I need to explain that Pearce prefers to roam the house in his boxers.  I appreciate the view, and it gets him out of doing things like walking the dog.  He is in the habit of walking in the door, and removing his clothes, dropping them as he goes. So sometimes there are shirts and pants in weird places in our house.

The first washing incident was a while ago when I was on a laundry binge, running around, gathering the randomly strewn work clothes.  I snatched up a pair of slacks, shirts, socks, whatever was on the floor.  I washed them with everything else in my basket.  I remember hearing some banging, but I didn't really think much of it. 

I went to put things in the dryer.

There was a cell phone in the bottom of the washing machine.

Pearce had left his phone, which was a really old-school, crappy one, in the pocket of his most recently discarded pants, and so I washed it.  He, of course, told all his coworkers this story, who thought it was SOO hilarious. OO look at your wife doing all your laundry so efficiently that she even gathers your stuff off the floor, and even washes your electronics. How wifely!  Grossly exaggerated.   So yeah, that phone was done.

O and then a little later, I washed his watch in basically the same scenario. WTF! Learn a lesson, husbu!

Pearce's Watch enjoying a day at the water.

The watch, thankfully (since it was a gift from me to him), was okay.

He has since purchased a new cell phone.