I regret to inform you that I must lodge a complaint with your management. No matter how nicely I have requested you come to our house – through multiple Laundry Elf chants, dances, wishes, letters and shouts to the heavens – you have NEVER ONCE made an appearance. I am not only disappointed in your tardiness, but I feel this shows a huge lack of compassion on your part.
Laundry Elves, in case you haven’t noticed, there are six people living in this house. Six. Six people who insist on wearing clean underwear and socks EVERY DAY. In case your math is as slow as your ability to appear and help a woman out, that is 42 pairs of underwear and 84 socks every week. (Ok, only 35 pairs of underwear because the baby wears diapers, but those sometimes leak, so extra pants count). That doesn’t even account for the two to three outfit changes each day for the four year old who “wants to dress fancy for when daddy gets home”. That also doesn’t count the pants that needed to be changed after school because the seven year old tripped on her scarf and landed in some mud.
I’ve had to teach my ten year old how to take a pair of jeans out of the clothes hamper and throw it in the dryer for 10 minutes with a wool dryer ball and some lavender oil to freshen them before school. That’s on your head, Laundry Elves.
Sometimes the baby has to wear Halloween pajamas in January because you can’t get your act together. I bet you never have to wear off-holiday pajamas. I hope you’re happy with yourself.
My husband thinks towels are supposed to be scratchy because you can’t figure out that little fabric softener hole in the washer. What’s that about?
Santa can visit millions if not billions of houses in one night. Are you seriously telling me that you can’t show up once a week to throw some clothes in the washer and dryer? How lazy are you?
For all of these reasons, I feel like you need to compensate this household. Washing, drying, folding and putting away the Mount Everest of laundry before it topples over and buries the one year old would not go amiss. In fact, I hope your management realizes the seriousness of this issue and sends you immediately. Like now. Ok, now. Right now would be good as well…
Alright, you can come tonight, but that’s my final offer.
The Lady Wearing A Sweatshirt With Yesterday’s Baby Snot On It
Sandra Samoska is a writer with a love for Jesus and a love for family. When she's not chasing around her four kids and doing all the things, you can find her writing about the ways God shows up in our every day lives.