For the last week or so, Grey and I have been unpacking everything and trying to move in to our new house. However, thanks to the POD that we used to move, all our worldy posessions smell strangely of cat piss. Or musty oatmeal mixed with goat cheese — I can’t decide. Luckily, our mattresses were safe because we covered those in heavy duty plastic, as well as most of our furniture, but every article of clothing we own needs to be washed as its scent reminds me of an over-flowing Port-o-Potty.
Febreze just isn’t an option; something about it makes my skin crawl. I feel like I’m dousing everything in “fresh scent” DDT or Agent Orange. To me, it’s just a bunch of chemicals masking the ass smell and fooling you into thinking things are clean when they are really dirtier than a toilet bowl. Consequently, we have a small mountain of laundry that needs to be done. Actually, it takes up an entire room and looks like a landfill for departed clothing. Just looking at this pile makes me want to take a nap.
Not to mention, all our down comforters and blankets smell like an elephant’s cage but since our current washer and dryer wouldn’t those, we were going to have to go to a laundromat to wash the big items. The only problem is, I vowed to never set foot in a laundromat after living in Philly and having some creepy person steal all my underwear. Ew.
So we did what good American consumers would do: we went out and bought a brand new washer and dryer to make this daunting task less hellish. Our new industrial size machines will make the 60+ loads we have way more enjoyable! Plus, they don’t get delivered until next week, so I don’t even have to feel guilty for putting off doing the laundry. Nothing like consumerism fueling procrastination.