Monday, 18 May 2009

Dirty laundry

I always seem to have a lot of both senses I suppose. There's the ever-mounting tower of sheets, shirts and frilly knickers and also the dirty double life; sweet wholesome girl ninety percent of the time, debauched and dirty the rest of the time. It's a nice life.

Reaching the unfortunate situation of actually having to do my handwashing tonight (some of it has been waiting months...literally) I'm suddenly very happy to live in a house of kinky girls. A house where no one bats an eyelid at my silk bloomers, pvc school tunic, ridiculously over the top pants, white knee high socks or hot pink seamed stockings. A house where my flatmate's pink rubber dress is keeping my school uniform company in the bathroom, where we openly discuss who we're playing with and show off the subsequent marks, and even occasionally give each other some for not doing the washing up...

Much better than my horrendous previous flatmate who insisted that I put black cotton underwear in my room to dry because her boyfriend was a strict Christian and would think that I was a prostitute. God knows what he'd have thought if he'd ever ended up in my wardrobe and discovered the corsets, suspenders, canes and school ties. Maybe I'd have had to do penance, though I might quite have liked that!

So I'm feeling very good for having done the oft-procrastinated handwashing...even if the only reason is because I need something for a playdate later this week. And I love that I can tell my flatmates that's where I'll be rather than creating some dubious excuse about godparents or overly extensive orchestra rehearsal :o)


Eliane said...

I try to buy nothing that can't be washed in the machine or sent to the dry cleaners. Then again, I'm fundamentally a lazy cow. As an example: I have ironing in my ironing pile that has been there for four and a half years.
Um, why do I sound proud of that?

As for the black cotton underwear, well if that's a sign of being a prostitute, then we may as well all book a place on the bus to hell together.

Rebecca said...

Ah that is wise...but period underwear is so pretty...and silk bloomers and washing machines don't seem to mix so well.

Hurrah for the hell bus - do they serve martinis?