Friday, October 28, 2005

Changing Society, One Sock at a Time

My mother says I do laundry like a boy.

I think that is probably an insult closely akin to "you throw like a girl," but I choose to take it in the best possible light. What she means by it is that I will wear absolutely every article of clothing I own, all 507 pairs of cute patterned socks, 15,372 shirts and 9,433 pairs of jeans, till it is all, without exception, unequivocally dirty -- not to mention lingering in enormous piles approximately the height of Mount McKinley all over my pink-flowered girly bedroom and smelling rankly of egg rolls, Mountain Dew Live Wire, and mothballs.

Then I muck around the house for a few days in a holey Ninja Turtles T-shirt that I've had since the first grade and cotton shorts with Christmas trees all over them which I think belong to my older sister until all 1200 loads of laundry are done. My washing method involves throwing it all in together in the washer (look, life is too short with too many video games to be played to waste precious moments on this planet separating lights and darks) Then I pour about a million cups of Tide in the wash to ensure that it all gets clean, slam the lid shut, and promptly forget about it for a couple days . . .

At which time I transfer it all into the dryer, categorically refusing on principle to remove the lint from the dryer (do you know how many children starving in Budapest would appreciate some good organic dryer lint?), and resort to parading around the house in my bathing suit because, hey, I had to wash the Ninja Turtles shirt sometime, right? I mean, it has been fourteen years.

So while my mother means it, I'm sure, as an insult, I consider it as positive reinforcement of the highly enviable inner workings of my ultra-efficient and alternatively creative mind.

And if I reek appallingly of mildew the next time you see me, just remember: it's all in the name of effecting a change in society via defying traditional gender roles. You wouldn't want to impede the cult of progress, would you?