I Am Offended. Except Not.

At our house, the folding of laundry is a job of the minions. And I’ll say first off that the chore is not spread out evenly among the minions. It’s more like, “You there. Fold the laundry and put it away.”

This summer two of the minions are working (they are doing summer research). That leaves only two minions folding scads of laundry. And since they aren’t paid, they have a communist approach—do the work with little care as to the results.

This led to the following scene at breakfast.

Husband: “You know, the laundry has become a total crap shoot. I get all kinds of clothes that aren’t mine.”

Working Minion (female): “I’m always getting other people’s laundry. Especially mom’s.”

Folding Minion (male): “One pair of pink undies looks like another. I can’t tell the difference.”

WM (conceding the point): “Yeah, but it’s not the underwear. You gave me mom’s dorky shorts.”

FM: “Hmm. True.”

Me, looking up from what I was reading: “Hey, I don’t have dorky shorts.”

WM: “You totally have dorky shorts. Remember those shorts you bought the other day to wear with your swimsuit.”

Me, knowing I bought them because they were cheap even though they were ugly and didn’t fit well: “Okay, those are dorky.”

WM: “You do have one pair of cute jeans.”

Me, feeling better: “Thanks…wait a minute…I have five pairs of jeans. Are you saying the others are lame?”

WM, with a teasing smile: “The jeans with the double buttons are so cute. I love when the boys put them in my laundry pile.”

I guess the lesson to be learned here is that one day in five I’m cool. And the rest, I’m dorky. Hmmm. I’m good with that.

The Disappeared

Everyone knows that socks disappear. You can fight it, and for a while I did. I found it an affront to my ideals of frugality and housekeeping. Eventually, I realized that sock loss is not a reflection on me personally, but the result of theft by the sock gnome. What a relief.

However, it didn't end with socks. The gnome moved on to pillowcases. At first, it was one embroidered pillowcase. Not one I embroidered by hand, but a machine embroidered one that came with our sheets. Of course, this wasn’t just any sheet set. This set was a gift. The uber expensive kind made of long cotton fibers with thread counts in the thousands. The kind of fabric that when your face touches the pillowcase and is nestled by cloud of fabric perfection, you’re sure your wrinkles will disappear over night. At any rate, when that pillowcase disappeared, I dug one out of the linen cupboard and gave it to Calvin. (He looks great with wrinkles.)

If the pillowcase theft had ended there, I would’ve let things be. But it didn’t. A plaid flannel case from our winter sheets turned up missing. I assumed it would show up. After all, we have six people folding laundry, so things get mixed up. Some of it purposely. I’ve heard one son yell at another, “Haha, not funny. Come and get this bra thing and put it in the right bedroom.”

But then, came the final affront. Two pillowcases disappeared in the same day. One was plaid flannel and the other a gorgeous hand-embroidered one. I’d put them in the washer. I did not, however, take them out of the dryer—some minion did. And the minion disavowed all knowledge of them.

This called for war. I scoured the house looking for them. I moved furniture. I checked dresser drawers. I hunted through linen cupboards and  bathroom cabinets. I checked behind and under the washer and dryer. I interrogated each and every member of the Keller family. All to no avail. Though Ariel suggested that I’m the real culprit. I have a history of sleep walking, and she decided that I’m so stressed about the pillowcases that I get up during the night and hide them. But that I can’t remember in the morning. I pondered that cheeky suggestion for half a second, pronounced it, “Rubbish.”

It’s been two weeks and the pillowcases have not shown up. I’ve concluded that sock gnome has moved to a whole new level of evil. Hand-embroidered pillowcases. Maybe it’s a sign of the economy—socks aren’t worth what they used to be. Has anyone else noticed sock gnomes stealing above their station? And does anyone know where I can get a good gnome trap?