The Duality of Stay at Home Parenthood

Life is an enigma, wrapped up in a mystery, or a dirty towel, at the best of times, but there are some things that are so perfect in their hypocrisy, as to be astounding.
One of these conundrums is laundry. It must be done, over and over, is never ending, can feasibly or probably be the EXACT SAME THING or things more than once, in a day if you are very unlucky. If the process stops, there is a rapid break down in world order.
“Oh honey, let the towels fold themselves tonight,” said no one ever.
H: “Why are you doing more laundry?”
M: “So I can, *sigh*, do more laundry.” Laundry is one of those staircases that goes in a circle. Are we going up or down? The only clear answer is that we are going insane. Penrose stairs, that’s apparently what they are called. Well, I have a Penrose laundry. Are the baskets growing or shrinking? Clean or dirty? Half empty or half full? The answer, clearly, is that laundry should go do itself, in no uncertain terms.
My kitchen also has a case of the Penrose Stairs. I clean it in order that more mess can be made, as often by me as by anyone else. I clear the benchtops in order to use them for something else. Rarely is there an opportunity to clean for cleaning sake. More likely for shit sake. Husband might beg me to do it, but there would be no clear space for his grovelling elbows.
I won’t even mention the bathrooms. Good grief!


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