Monsoon Diaries- Laundrywali

I was going through my Facebook newsfeed and noticed that almost everything I have shared has been shared by someone before me. That is, none of the posts on my feed is an original thought expressed by me. The articles, the videos, the opinions, the pictures, I have been a carrier of the viral germ that permeates the digital space for far too long. My personality may be reflected via the views I endorse through these posts. But there has hardly been anything else that has been reflective of me as a person, as my voice, unhindered, vocal and even blah.

I intend to change that. I mean so what if people don't agree with me. There's always the option to block, right? ;)

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It's been pouring cats and dogs here for the past three days. What is the origin of that phrase, can someone enlighten me please? Why would anyone want to replace the musical pitter-patter of raindrops with the thud and thump of cats and dogs falling ominously from the sky? I'm sure there's an explanation. But it is bizarre. 

Anyway, I love the monsoon and after the terrible summer we've lived through this year, I am not going to complain about the persistent showers. I'm not going to crib about the dust that's settled on the window panes like droplets (a reminder of how much the help's been getting away with). I'm not going to squirm at the sight of earthworms. I'm not going to pull my hair out in frustration as the little one bounces about the house in boredom because she isn't able to play outdoors. I'm not going to fret over the clothes that refuse to dry. 

Nope I'm going to enjoy the rains with something hot, fried and unhealthy because nothing else will help me pretend the grey skies are bright and blue. 

I love the monsoons for the sole reason that it feels like the perfect time to read or write. But the laundry brings out the other side of the season. The dark as the rain clouds evil side. The constant battle that ensues everyday between the pile of unwashed clothes and rows of wet clothes struggling to dry themselves, has me cornered with no escape. Of all the chores waiting to be done in the house, laundry is the one I detest the most. It feels so utterly pointless at times.

The clothes come out of the cupboard. They are worn and then go into the bin where they will be sorted into dark, whites and lights and washed according to urgency and colour. It's a very different sort of math.

They will then have to be dragged out of the machine and hung out to dry tediously one after another. This too calls for planning because some will need to be turned inside out, and the coloured clothes are kept away from the direct blast of the sun for fear of them fading.

Next step- shuffling them about to ensure they are all evenly dry in this weather. This means that the rack is pulled into the living room each night and placed strategically under the fan. Then you cross your fingers and hope that it dries in time.

And then comes the most hated task of all- folding those damn clothes. Big, small, extra small. Shirts, trousers, dresses and socks. Oh god how deeply I dislike folding socks! Printed, solids, and textured. One pair of each and the other always MIA.

After this arduous and never-ending task is complete, the clothes are sorted once again into his, hers, the little one's and a special pile for the dhobi or as I refer to him, Ironman! All this so that they may make their way back into the cupboard. Only to repeat the process once again from scratch. 

Is that a rant? But then I've earned it. Anyway, like I said, I'm not going to crib about the monsoon. I'm going to swallow it down with some hot chai. Like the Crocin pain relief I need after the sun sets on the day and the battle of the laundry is paused, only to begin again at daybreak. 

Are you as conflicted about the season as I am?