“What do you mean you need khakis for your trip in the morning? I just washed a whole load of them earlier in the week.” Hey and thanks for waiting until my line day to tell me you need laundry done in time for your 8 a.m. flight. Well, I didn’t say that out loud, but I <i>thought</i> it. I’ll save it to say out loud with a Bus Stop Mommy over a latte and croissant once my husband’s safely at cruising altitude.
“I only have one pair left in my closet and I need at least three for this trip.” When is NYC going to get with the trend and start wearing jeans to work? It would make my life easier. At least the Laundry Fairy left a dozen heavily starched shirts on my front door Saturday.
The Laundry Fairy is my new best friend. Some day I will overcome my fear of the financial ramifications and let the Fairy pick up, launder and deliver my husband’s khakis too. But first I must plant the seed, water it, and watch it grow until it becomes my husband’s idea — then, and only then, is it a good one.
Oh right, my husband. Going on trip. Needs pants. Where could they be? Logic would dictate looking in his hamper, my hamper and the laundry room. Since my life runs on everything but logic, I checked my daughter’s hamper, the dog’s bed, couch cushions, and car. Hit paydirt in my son’s room. Apparently, when his sister cleaned out his closet recently, she deemed the khaki pants worthy of public wear. She didn’t, however, check the tag to see they were her father’s size and not her brother’s.
Along with the khakis, I scored for my husband one pair of jeans, two golf shirts and four dress shirts. Two of the shirts and the khakis were already ironed — bonus! That just leaves me with the pair of crumpled Wrinkle Free Dockers to wash, dry and iron.
You don’t believe that Wrinkle Free business anymore than I do, right? And you already know how much I hate to iron, right? Which is really inconvenient since everything my husband wears to work, save the blue jeans, requires ironing.
While packing, I planted the, Give the Khakis to the Laundry Fairy Too seed.
“Hey Honey, you know these khakis would arrive in New York still neatly pressed if they had a heavy, professional starch in them….”
Now I need to get over my guilt for tossing the remaining clean yet unpressed dress shirts into the Laundry Fairy’s bag. Hurry, someone … anyone — twist my arm. But don’t tell my husband.
<i>Karen Rinehart is a syndicated newspaper columnist, public speaker, and creator of </i>The Bus Stop Mommies™<i>. Her book, </i>Invisible Underwear, Bus Stop Mommies and Other Things True To Life<i>, is a popular read in book clubs, school pick up lines, and soccer fields. She enjoys hearing from readers across the States and as far away as Australia, Japan, and England. You can read more at <a href="http://www.busstopmommies.com/" target=_blank>BusStopMommies.com</a>. Karen lives in North Carolina with her two kids, two dogs, and one husband, where they attend St. James Catholic Church. (Well, they leave the dogs at home.)</i>
