Posts Tagged ‘Laundry’

No.. this isn't Bubba's room but it could be..

.. so if you’re a regular reader then you know what the ¬†laundry deal is.

If your new to this blog, then the gist of is that I will NOT do laundry that is NOT in the laundry hamper and I’m not going to chase you around for it.

You want to keep a pile of dirty laundry in your room? Go right ahead but don’t come crying to me when you don’t have any clean clothes to wear.

Leave them balled up under your bed? Tough shit.

There’s been incident after incident after incident of the above which really, REALLY torqued my ass when the dryer was broke and I had to cart five laundry hampers of dirty clothes and towels to the laundromat every Sunday night. Now that I have working washer and dryer in the house, I must do laundry at least four days a week so there is no reason why anybody should have any dirty clothes around.

Unless, of course, they’re in piles or shoved under beds.

Last week, when Bubba came home from his week at his friend’s dorm room, I did ask him if he had anything dirty to wash. I did this as an experiment. I knew that there were very little of his clothes in the hamper and just aiming for ammunition to store in the little bunker in my head.

He brings me two t-shirts.

That’s it? What did you wear the same clothes the whole week?

He says that he didn’t.. but he didn’t know which clothes were dirty because.. you guessed it.. they’re all in a pile in his bedroom.

Dirty and clean together.


So I shrug my shoulders and get along with my bad self.

Wednesday night I came home from the shop just long enough to bring them home dinner because me and Chief had to go to the wholesaler’s to get what we needed for this huge catering order.

Bubba asks me if I take him up to the local clothes warehouse to get stuff.

Nope. Already have plans.

He then asks if I was doing laundry and I said that I already started it ..

End of conversation.

Last night after me and Chief came home from the shop and Bubba came into the kitchen to see what was for dinner, I noticed he was still wearing the black sweat pants and long sleeve white shirt that he has had on for the past three days.

“Is the reason you wanted me to take you to the store to get clothes is because you don’t have anything clean to wear?

He said it was but that he also needed new stuff because his t-shirts were ruined from swimming in the creek.

I told him that the way to get the creek OFF his clothes is to wash them right away.. and that there were clean clothes of his in the dryer that needed to be brought upstairs.

He said that he still needed jeans because he grew out of the ones he had and so I told him that he’s going to have to wait until I have some money to get them.. he said that the Crack Whore had mentioned something about taking him and I was like Cool. I have NO problem with that.

End of conversation.

Chief had been in the kitchen when all this was going on but it wasn’t until later on when we were in our bedroom and I mentioned that school was starting in less then two weeks and that I needed to get them stuff so the Crack Whore better come through with the child support that the lightbulb went off in his head and he was like, “.. wait. All Bubba’s clothes are in a pile in his room? Doesn’t he know how to do his laundry? And he’s home all goddamn day?”

I just put on a sweet innocent smile and shrugged my shoulders. “What can I tell you?”

End of conversation

So now.. as soon as I finish this post.. I’m going to get the hampers from my room and the bathroom and do more laundry.

Bubba is STILL wearing his winter get up .. and Spaz hasn’t changed his shorts :: or underwear :: in a good week or so. Changes his shirt though.. which I guess he thinks is going to confuse me into thinking that he’s been showering and changing his underwear..

We’ll see what happens.

Do you know what road scales are?

I’ve lived in this county for two YEARS and I had no clue what they were until a little while ago.

If you DON’T know what they are, I’ll tell you.. because my adrenaline is UP.TO.HERE from having spent the better part of 3 hours with the laundromat’s underbelly and WAY too much caffeine.

Apparently, a road scale is a scale under a road that controls the traffic light. If you are the only car / truck / van / vespa on the road and are NOT stopped on the scale :: designated by two thin strips of metal about 3ft long :: , the light won’t change to green. And you’ll sit and sit and sit and curse and curse and sit some more until the traffic light literally laughs at you.. calls you a loser and changes to green.

In my case, it took about 10 minutes of mockery before my heart almost burst from my chest in fright.

So what happened?


So my make a left coming out of the laundromat’s parking lot onto the Pike and then make a right at the first traffic light. This puts me on a road.. lane.. whatever.. that has been there forever but has evolved into one of the most heavily traveled roads that cuts through the county. I go through the first light and then am SUPPOSE to make a right at the second light that will put me a hop-skip-jump from my house.

Now, I’ve driven on this road a million times.. and even at 1:30am, there’s always more then just ME on the road.

Until tonight.

I guess everybody ELSE in the county and it’s surroundings had better things to do. Like sleep.

So I approach the light .. which is red .. and stop.

And wait.

And wait.

And wait.

I know that it’s a long light to begin with and in all honesty, I had to go pee really, really bad :: too much caffeine :: and you know how time never moves when you need to run to the bathroom, right?

So while I’m contemplating whether or not I should make a illegal turn on red.. I hear that familiar chirp come up behind me blinking those pretty red and blue lights.



My other car being parked at my house… about a block away on the right.. that big, white, monster of a refuge with wooden railings :: my land lord is a dick :: ..

My heart starts beating out of my chest and I’m trying not to look in my rear view mirror as he pulls up behind me and gets of the Crown Vic :: so cliche’ ::

My whole body is getting tight and I’m doing the “omgomgomgomgomgomgomgomg” mantra one does when you realize that your freedom’s will be lost because of an unpaid traffic ticket.

I swear everything was moving in slow motion.. HA! Copper was doing this ON PURPOSE! Sure! Make me sweat! Then I just might roll over on the evil doer who’s not picking up after their dog on the cemetary side of the rode! I read that 3 column article in the paper! I know you’re looking for him!

So I may be exaggerating a little about my nerves.. well, maybe not but all I can tell you is that THIS was it. My keen awareness of my surroundings and spot on spider senses kept me as a fugitive this long.. and now I was being brought down by a red light.. at 1:30am.

As the cop is walking towards my car, I figure that my best course of action was to put the car in reverse and leave tire tracks on his chest tell the truth.. OR pray for the green light to that I can take off and legally make a right turn to my house! No.. that isn’t going to work. I’d have to tell the truth.

He was within 2 feet of my driver’s side window when I did a very.. very.. girl thing.

I started to cry.

No the sobbing.. bawling.. wailing reserved for the unexpected death of a loved one.. but the quiet bottom pouting boo-boo lip tears usually reserved for when you get arrested for an unpaid parking ticket that wasn’t yours that your idiot man told you he paid and you can’t pay it to avoid arrest because of a stupid federal holiday that nobody really celebrates anymore.

That kind of crying.

He gets to my window and by now I can’t breath.. my hearts pounding and I’m all IKNOWYOURGOINGTOARRESTMEBECAUSEIHAVEAWARRANTBUTCOULDI

He was all WHAT?

And I started the whole spiel all over again :: probably verbatim because that’s how I roll :: and he shined his flashlight into my car and said, “… you have an outstanding warrant for your arrest, ma’am?” AND THEN PUT HIS HAND ON HIS GUN.

I almost rolled out of the car and assumed my own position!

I took a deep breath.. two, I think.. and got a grip on myself and explained to him in a calm voice that in the console of my car he would find the impending arrest notice with the money owed paper clipped to it. I received the notice on Saturday.. was going to pay it today but since the courts were closed, I wasn’t able to.

He told me to slowly… SLOWLY.. open my console and show him. Which I did. VERY SLOWLY.

He was all like “oh. Traffic?”

Like the last three days of my hell meant nothing to him.

I nodded my head and he asked me where I lived and what I was doing out this late. I told him and he shined the light in my eye asking me if I had been drinking or “.. indulging in illegal substances”. I told him only coffee. A lot of coffee.

I asked him if he was going to arrest me and he said he wasn’t.

OMG.. you might have thought that someone handed me a check for a billion dollars. I was so relieved I actually felt weak. Like I was going to melt into the car seat.

He asked me if I knew why he approached the car and I said that I had no. I was just sitting here waiting for the light to change.

HIM: You’re off the scale.
ME: (laughing) Well, I usually get that I’m off the chain
HIM: No. You’re off the road scale.
ME: What?
HIM: The road scale.. THE ROAD SCALE

You could have so told that he wanted to add “.. you dumb bitch” at the end!

ME: I don’t know what a road scale is

He yelled that and shined his light onto the thin metal strips that were about a foot in front of my car.

When he realized that I really didn’t know what the hell he was talking about, he told me what it was and what it did and said that he was sitting in the parking lot of the drug store down the street and noticed that the light wasn’t changing and only drove up to tell me that I had to move my car up to get the light to change.

He told me that I should really know that.

I told him I didn’t remember reading it in the state’s driver’s manual.

He told me that he could still arrest me.

I told him that I was going to move my car up so that the light could change and that I could get my simple ass home.

He said that was a good idea.

And that’s what I did.. obeying the speed limit and coming to a complete stop at the two stop signs that delayed me from getting to my bed.

When I got out of the car, my knees were literally like noodles. My heart was pound and I swear my hands were shaking but I can’t confirm or deny that.

All I know is that that damn ticket is getting paid ASAP .. and I’ll be sure to look out for the thin metal strips of road scales!


What started off as a semi-good day yesterday turned into a major disaster.

It started off Saturday night with a conversation I had with Bubba. We were all home and playing games in the living room when Chief made an exit to do what he usually does when Spaz gets to be TOO Spazz-y. Mainly, take a hit from a joint to curb the desire to punch Spaz in the face.

Sounds harsh, I know.. but that’s the reality of it.

At any rate… So Chief leaves the room and I get up to go to the bathroom. No sooner had I put my ass on the toilet all hell breaks loose in the living room. I can’t tell you what it was about.. and in truth, I really don’t care. All I know is when Bubba and Spaz are in the same room together unattended.. all hell breaks loose.

Spaz is a major drama queen and if I’m being honest, Bubba usually gets the short end of the stick when Spaz starts screaming and crying and whining about some minor infraction that’s usual between brothers that are 3 years apart.

So Chief goes out there and handles things but I’m done with them now.. Spaz truly does take the joy out of most things done as a family.

I go into the bedroom and it isn’t long before Bubba knocks on my door asking to come in. I forget where Chief was … he may have been in the bathroom at that point :: not sure :: and we start having a conversation about how he hates being around Spaz because he gets under his skin and Chief always takes Spaz’s side.. etc. etc. etc.

So I tell him that he has to grow up a little… recognize that Spaz has a mental problem and if he :: meaning Bubba :: doesn’t feed into it then Spaz has no ammunition to use on him.

BUBBA: Why can’t you just tell him to [whatever]

ME: Are you serious? I can’t get YOU to do [whatever] what makes you think I can get HIM to?

Mind you.. Bubba is only looking out for himself and trying to wrangle a way to do what HE wants to do. But I know this and I’m not falling into the trap.

ME: You know, you could have never lasted growing up with my parents.


ME: Because I didn’t have a tv in my bedroom.. I had to do my homework as soon as I came home from school.. I had chores to do.. had curfews, rules to follow, etc.

BUBBA: That sucks

ME: You really think it was that way because they were being assholes? No.. they gave me a foundation to becoming as successful as I am.

BUBBA: Yea, you are like.. the most successful person I know.

ME: There you have it.

I told him that we were going to my nephew’s party on Sunday and taking Spaz so he would have the whole day by himself to play all the damn playstation he wanted and that seemed to make him happy.

So Sunday rolls around and me, Chief and Spaz go to my brother’s. We have a great time until we’re about to leave and Spaz wants me to stop at a store on the way home to buy him a Pepsi.

Are you fucking kidding me, kid?

So he had a attitude and I didn’t care.

Rewind a minute:

While we were at my brother’s, Chief and I went to the Taj Mahal of Wal-Marts and bought a computer for the dining room.

I wasn’t too into spending the money on them but frankly, Bubba is starting high school this year and his summer project needs to be posted on line before school starts and getting him a computer is ONE LESS excuse he’d have for not doing his work.

Since I had TONS of laundry to do, I told Chief that I didn’t want to set the computer up until afterwards because I KNEW the kids were going to start fighting over it even before it got out of the box.

That WAS the plan until we got home and Chief informed me that HE wanted to set it up because HE wanted to play around with it.

Like there has never been a computer in this house before. Give me a fucking break.

I was already torqued because while we were out, Bubba decided he was going to play video games in my bedroom. Oh HELL fucking NO! THEN I find out that Chief said he could “.. if it got too hot in the the living room”


On top of that.. I went into Spaz’s room and it was a garbage pit. When I told him to clean it up.. he gave me more attitude and started his drama queen shit.

So when Chief started with the damn computer, I was like “.. you know what? YOU stay here with the computer and I’LL go to the laundromat.”

I really didn’t want to be near any of them at that point.

So I leave with the laundry.

Mind you.. I keep all our clothes separated. The boys in one hamper.. the whites in another.. and then me and Chief’s.

I do this for a few reasons. One, I skeeve having their clothes touch mine and two, keeping everything separate means that when they’re finished drying I can fold them and put them back in the baskets and just hand them over when I get home. It saves a lot of time.

So I go there and throw everything in the washers. When it’s time to move them to the dryers, I start taking the kids clothes out and low and behold, there’s piles of petrified dog shit in there.





So OLD that being in a wash cycle did nothing to change their molecular structure from ROCK HARD.

Now.. do you know what “beyond embarrassed” means?

It was SO obvious that when Bubba was forced to clean his room, he just scooped up the clothes and threw them in the basket.. and since he never closes his door or keeps the gate up, the dogs shit in his room and he just leaves it there.

So now, everything has to be washed again.

As I’m shaking his clothes out :: to make sure that I’m not missing any dog shit :: you’ll never guess what falls out of the pocket of one of his jeans.

Eleven dollars and..



wait for it…


<< insert drum roll here >>

A nickel bag of pot.

Yep… you read that right.. A NICKEL BAG OF POT.

I can’t even describe to you how much of a kick in the chest that felt like. Especially because I was the one being compromised here. It felt like forever before I could literally move to swipe it up and jam it in my pocket.

Think I was mad BEFORE that? Think I was more then pissed off with the whole “washing the dog shit” thing? Oh my God.. I was fucking L.I.V.I.D. I literally wanted to punch something, that’s how mad I was.

So I quickly finish re-loading the washers.. jump in the truck.. drive the four blocks to my house like Vin Diesel in The Fast and Furious.

I scream into the driveway.. jumped out, slamming the door closed and stomped in the house.

I get right into Bubba’s chin :: he’s way taller then me :: and tell him


Then I pointed to Chief and said:


I marched into the bedroom and he followed.

Before he could even get a word out, I held my hand out to him and said “.. THIS is what I found in Bubba’s pocket.”

He was shocked… I gave it to him and told him exactly what happened and how I knew that it was Bubba’s jeans.

Chief stomped out of the room and screamed for Bubba.

Who actually, wasn’t too far.. only about 6 feet away in the kitchen.

Bubba’s excuse is that :: of course :: it wasn’t HIS. I told him that they were definitely HIS jeans that it came out of and he asked me which ones. When I described them to him, he told me that they were WEED’S jeans.. that he had gone over to the Crack Whore’s after being in the creek and she told him to change out of his wet clothes and he grabbed a pair of Weed’s pants.

Chief looked at me.. and I looked at him.

The jeans in question WHERE Weed’s. I did know that for a fact. But I also know that junkie’s VERY RARELY.. IF EVER.. “lose” their drugs and especially don’t forget about money.

Plausible excuse? Sure… Possible? Definitely… so what to do?

Me and Chief go back into the bedroom and he tells me that he’s not sure if he believes him or not .. I tell him that I’m not sure either but there is NO QUESTION in my mind that they CAN NOT.. CAN NOT.. CAN NOT.. go over to the Crack Whore’s. He agrees and we go back out to talk to Bubba.

Chief tells him that he doesn’t know what to believe.. that trust is something that goes away when drugs are involved. And in order to re-gain his trust, Bubba is going to have to do this.. that.. and the other thing and isn’t allowed back over to the Crack Whore’s.

I tell Bubba that there is no reason why he needs to be over there now.. since we got a computer, there’s no excuses.

But my mind is still warping at a million miles an hour.

I’m so pissed over SO many things.. things I think I even forgot post.. that I just leave and go back to the laundromat to finish with the clothes.

I get back home around midnight… soaked with sweat because it’s so freakin’ hot and humid and being in a laundromat does nothing to cool one off. Figuratively OR Literally.

I’m in one of those DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT TALKING TO ME moods. Jaw clenched.. no eye contact.. zipping around keeping my hands and mind occupied with the mundane.

I brought the clothes in and started putting things away. All the while Chief is watching me.. waiting for me to say something.. but I don’t care. Everything is getting way to much for me to bear.. and I was actually just going to tell him that I was going to go away for a few days. My thought was that maybe not having me around would make them appreciate me more.

I avoid Chief as much as possible and then take a shower.. when I finish, he had gotten the hint I think because the bedroom light was out and he was snoring.

I got into bed and finally fell asleep.

Monday morning I wake up at around 10. Late for me but I figured after everything that had gone on, Chief wasn’t going to wake me up to go down to the shop.

I go into Spaz’ room to turn off his air conditioner and his room is still a mess.

I go upstairs to turn off Bubba’s air conditioner :: even though the mother fucker didn’t even go upstairs to sleep therefore running up my electric bill :: and guess what? HIS room is a garbage pit but better YET was the fact that there was STILL a pile of dirty clothes in the corner AND Chief had been up there the night before when he turned on his air condition.. so HE SAW IT but chose not to do anything or say anything about it.

Quite Mode Again.

I go down to the store and I’m not saying much at all.. just whatever is necessary in one or two word sentences. On top of that, I feel sad. Sad that things are turning out the way they are.

Weed winds up strolling in just as Chief is walking out to go by cigarettes. I ask Weed if he’s missing a nickel bag and he was like, “Noooooo” and I tell him what I had found doing the laundry.

He tells me he knew Bubba was into some stuff because he was hanging around this person’s brother that I never heard of… Chief comes back in and I really can’t remember what was being said but then Chief says:


That’s when the valve came off my pressure cooker.


I started going off on him the way I used to go off on my psycho-ex.. dropping “dude” and “man” instead of “honey” and “babe”.

I can’t remember exactly what I said.. but I went off about how HE was the parent.. how them being at her place was obviously not heading in a good direction.. that he knows what goes on over there and yet he constantly puts his kids in danger by allowing them over there.. I told him that he is SO worried about being the “good guy” that his kids don’t respect him.. they don’t listen.. have too much freedom. That it isn’t about them having clean rooms or doing the dishes in the sink but about doing what they are told.. and respecting him as a parent and me as an adult. It’s life lessons and skills that they need to be taught that they’re not learning.. or being repremanded for not doing. I told him that I seem to be the only one that is trying to mold them into in good, honest, decent people and all he does is hide out in the bedroom not to deal with them… I told him that he already “lost” one son and if he doesn’t straighten up and fly right.. if he doesn’t start being a parent.. he was going to lose the other two because the whole summer Bubba was never around and nobody knew exactly where he was at or who he was with.

I know I said other things but that’s about the gist of it.

I also turned to Weed and told him that he better get his fucking life together and do something to make his father proud of him because his father had done nothing but crawl over broken glass to provide for him and all he’s done so far is fuck him in the face.

Everything got quiet and finally Chief asks me what he should do.

I tell him to do “the right thing”.

He asks what that is and I tell him to “follow thru”

Then I was done talking. I was too worn out and torqued and all these other emotions.

Chief goes in the back and about 10 minutes later, he walks out.

When he returns, he tells me that he went to the house and laid into the boys. He said that he went into each of their rooms and told them exactly what he expected to be done.

He looked worn out.. emotional.. even teary.

I told him that he needed to leave the shop. I’d handle it. He should go home.. be with the boys.. keep an eye on them and make them understand that he wasn’t playing around anymore.

So he left.

When he returned around 4:30 to relieve me, he walked in and just gave me this big hug and tried putting his head on my shoulder :: he’s taller then me :: and told me how much he loved me and how much it hurts him to see me so upset and so “grrrr”.

I said that I wasn’t sorry that I blew up but that I was sorry that it had to happen in order to shake him up into doing what needs to be done. He said he needed that.. he needs to be told and that he was glad that I was there.. that I was concerned enough.. that I loved them enough to point out the obvious.

So things are okay now.. and hopefully, he’ll stick with it.

HA! Just got a text from the Crack Whore.

THIS should be good!

So yesterday was “catch-up-on-laundry” day. Chief and I wound up going to the same two flea markets that we went to last week and got some steals on some things he’s been wanting for the shop.

We got home around 1 and while he made lunch for me and Spaz, I started sorting.

I really don’t mind doing laundry. Oddly, I actually can say that I like it but there was so much to do that if I didn’t start early, I would be up all night.

I always make sure my first load of darks contain my work clothes, Chief’s clothes and the boys’ school clothes.. after that it’s the whatever stuff. Since the cold weather has finally left I wasn’t going to wash all the sweatshirts and hoodies :: from Spaz’ room :: until everything else was done.

I tell Spaz to get me the hamper in his room that has been sitting in there since Monday :: when I forced him to clean his room under the assumption that CYS was going to be called ::

NOTE: I wasn’t too concerned that they hadn’t been washed last week. I knew I was going to do everything on Sunday.. he had clean school clothes and I had just bought him more boxers so.. beats having a full hamper of disgusting clothes in the living room!

Anyway.. as I’m sorting through the hamper :: separating darks, whites and towels :: I pull out a pair of his boxers that almost made me hurl lunch all over the floor.

You know that old “survivalist” thing about turning your underwear around and then inside out in an emergency? Well.. let me tell you something.. those boxers were WAY BEYOND ANYTHING ACCEPTABLE!

Honestly, I was never SO appalled by anything SO disgusting before.

And there’s a part of me that feels like I should have been MORE on top of the underwear situation because every time I did laundry, there were no boxers to wash. And I told him that.. in front of Chief…

Since I had bought so many pairs for him in February, I actually assumed that he just shoved his dirty pair under his bed or in his closet or something.. NEVER thinking that he just wasn’t putting clean ones on. Bad enough, I know.. but after I would I say something about it, boxers would turn up in the laundry..

What was I to do? Smell them? What am I suppose to do with an almost-11 year old kid who isn’t my biological child when he gets out of the shower? Do I smell his hair? Yes. Do I smell the skin on his arms? Yes. Other then that, I guess I’ve become so accustomed to hearing horror stories that I don’t want to cross some invisible line that I don’t know about.

I will say that Chief is getting more involved.. and that’s a good thing. And Spaz, to give him credit, is being a lot more conscience… at least for now.

All I know for sure is that I make sure I check what pair of underwear is on his body when I leave in the morning and make sure his dirty pair are in the bathroom hamper after taking a shower.

But I mean, really. How gross can you get?