So I get a little mocked every now and then for writing about laundry related matters. All I can say is that it is more fun than actually doing the washing, and hanging it out, bringing it back in and defintely more fun than folding it, recovering it from the grasp of the child and from the floor and then refolding it and finally putting it away. Not to mention doing it all again the very next day and the day after and the day after that. For ever and ever. Maybe I'm exaggerating a little, but we've had one of those days and it all seems a bit endless. Lots of washing. Not to mention the grossness of some things you have to wash. At least Grace no longer vomits all the time. Still there is more than enough dreck involved. Shit, sweat, blood, piss, dirt, food. It's a bit funny I think, writing about laundry to escape all that.
The other day at work, I was photocopying a customers payslip (don't ask, but it's something I do regularly) and I noticed she worked in a laundry and was paid a "nauseous allowance". And I thought about what she probably had to handle and what sort of volumes were probably involved. And shuddered. But we do it everyday too, albeit in much smaller volumes and rarely give it a thought. Well I don't.
It occurred to me to then, that I write very little about the actual mechanics of how the dirty becomes clean. I don't even think about it much any more. It's been a long, long time since I've asked my mum how to remove a stain or even to wash something difficult like a rug for me. Automatically I know to soak blood in cold water, how to use a fabric spray and when to use bleach. The other day in Saver's I even convinced someone to buy some cool, but slightly scratched plates by explaining how to bleach china. It works a treat on plastic too. I use home brand nappy soak in the bath, and soak everything for over an hour. The bath comes up well too. How did I go from useless to quite knowledgeable? When did I suddenly know all this stuff?