Laundry Exposed!

For any honest discussion about the concept of laundry, we must travel back into the distant mists of time. Before fabric softener, lint rollers, dry cleaning; before the electric, the wringer, the washboard. (Forget altogether the preposterous evil of “ironing,” now and forever.)

How did such an onerous tradition get started? When did humanity get so puffed up it had to have clean clothes all the time? How dirty is dirty? Is dirt bad? Save 300% at once: redefine filth, make “laundry day” once a month. Wearing the same shirt as yesterday is legal in all 50 states.

Sticks/rocks, a river; there is nothing else needed on your bi-annual laundry day. That’s right, make it bi-annual and save another 500%, BAM! Whack the clothes with rocks or sticks, rinse, repeat. Skip the gym workout by using heavier rocks and sticks.

Throw clothes over bushes or spread on someone’s lawn to dry. “Clotheslines” can be strung between nails across the living room, or between fence post and non-running car. If the sun shines, and you use an electric dryer, you no longer get to pretend you are “concerned about the environment.” Also, save 100% on “fabric softener”—skip it. (What a successful scam that became!)

The invention of the laundry bat was a grim milestone in the history of laundry. Really just a prettied-up stick, but soon all the peasants were too good for their plain old one. This began a downward spiral of technology to our almost-mandatory electric washing machines.

A man beating laundry at the local creek this week would be mocked, or assumed to be insane. (A woman less so, but that’s an ongoing slavery issue.) Even the poorest borrow mom’s washer now and then.

Compromise: just wash everything at once in the bathtub. Warm water, pee on ‘em for de-greasing (ammonia), maybe even a little soap of some kind. Walk on ‘em to agitate. Get naked and clean self too! Rinse a couple times. Wring ‘em out by hand, hang ‘em throughout the bathroom and the rest of the house to dry. That way no one has to know how cheap—or broke—you are. More folks do a version of this than will admit to it.

Free Washcloths!

Clean towels sat for a few days in a basket underfoot. After 23 married years Cheap Dude knew which tests of wills could be won, and which were at best endless attrition. He began folding one bored afternoon, and noticed a tiny rip in one holy towel had grown large.

A pair of scissors, and a rotten towel became eight new washcloths!  Or shop towels, if one is too special to wash with un-hemmed cloth.