Dear Mother...

...Or Why You Should Never Let Your Mother Do Your Chores After You're 24.

"Dear Mother" could be followed up with "...of pearl." or "of Christ." or another word that isn't appropriate to type. All of those cliches come to mind when trying to do the simple task of laundry with my mother. You see, I'm leaving tomorrow for Washington State...YAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYY! and my mom made the nice gesture of offering to wash some clothes for me to help me pack. HOWEVER, I returned home expecting most of it to be done, however, she had only washed my work clothes. Which I have no intention of wearing while in Washington. She then wants me to sort through my clothes and tell her which to wash so that I can take on my trip. Let's be honest, I don't really sort anymore. I wash everything in cold. Dry my t-shirts and line dry the rest. That's it. I wash my bras with my work clothes, my reds with my blues, and my greys with my whites. Yes, I know it's risky, but I've been doing it for six years and somehow I still manage to have wearable clothes after everytime I do laundry. My mother, however, doesn't see it that. She acts like I have NEVER done laundry before in my life. In fact, we almost got into an argument about whether or not my bra could do in the wash with some work shirts. She tells me that it's going to ruin it as she turns one of the cups inside out, to which, I then flip out...because YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO DO THAT! Obviously, we have different opinions when it comes to clothes...

The same as loading the dishwasher now that I think of it. My mom must have an instruction manual somewhere in which it indicates there is only one proper way to load the dishwasher...and that is her way. I guess it must have gotten misplaced over the years because I sure haven't seen it around.

Dear friends, if you love your mother, don't do the dishes with her or laundry. It'll just end badly.