Last weekend we went to a bonfire at a friend’s house. It was a lot of fun and I’d of course go back, but on the drive home the smoke smell that had seeped into everything – clothes, bags, and even hair – started to drive me crazy, nausea wise.
When we got home, I swung into detox mode. Everyone was required to immediately take off all of their clothes and put on pajamas. I threw it all in the washer, then took a shower and forced Thomas to do the same. The kids we took pity on since it was past their bedtime and they were exhausted. Instead of bathing them, I threw them in bed and figured I’d wash their sheets tomorrow. (You know I totally did.)
Later, it felt weird, and a little obsessive, to be folding and putting away, freshly washed, every article of clothing each one of us had been wearing only hours before. Plus, everyone else was asleep by that time, which really made me feel like a laundry fairy.
“Just throw your clothes on the floor. It’s ok. While you’re sleeping someone will collect, wash, dry, fold, and put them away so you can awaken to clothes that don’t even seem to have been worn.”
(That would be awesome, wouldn’t it?)