Explain this to me….

I speak two languages and am pretty decent with a third one. I can read three books concurrently without getting lost. I have traipsed The Andes and the Amazon Jungle both on foot and on jeep. I have helped build & rebuild houses for myself and those less fortunate. I have handled a ceremonial flute made out of a human femur. I have planted enough trees to eliminate Global Warming. I have trained total putzes on how to safely handle a firearm and shoot only what was shootable. I have trained dogs for home defense and cats to walk on a leash. I can transition from cars with automatic transmission to stick shift without even having to pause. I can cook, sew, grow vegetables, prune grape vines and perform life saving first aid……

So how come I am (according to my wife) incapable to master the mysteries of washing whites?

I mean, make ONE mistake with a gallon of bleach and you are banned from the wash room for life.

I ask you, is that fair?

22 Replies to “Explain this to me….”

  1. My mum trained me long ago in the proper technique of washing whites during my adolesence- by washing mine with a few red items. Not only did that teach me to seperate items, it also taught me responsibility, as I started washing my own stuff right after that.




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  2. I copped out and started buying mostly black/brown/blues/darker colour clothing. I don’t wanna make a hastle.

    Still, it just means the black pile is larger. We just don’t bother with bleach, or if we do, pitch some extra dollars in for colour safe.




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  3. I cleaned the stove once when it was really dirty. Wife said “Why did you even bother, you did a lousy job!”

    I have never cleaned the stove ever again. Who won? 😉




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    1. She did…. “I am here losing my fingers cleaning the stove that got dirty cooking YOUR meals and what are you doing? Watching TV & scratching your belly!”
      Never underestimate the power of female guilt trip usage.




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      1. LOL! My Dad is this KING of Passive-Agressive. Before we got married I let the Mrs. Know that shit wouldn’t fly (and it generally isn’t part of her tool box), so yeah it isn’t an issue.
        “I am here losing my fingers cleaning the stove that got dirty cooking YOUR meals and what are you doing? Watching TV & scratching your belly!”

        A: “So stop! I’ll make pizza in the dirty stove!”

        8) Needless to say I’ve known Mrs. Weer’d since we were both 13, and I’ve ALWAYS been like this…well except for the beard.

        She knew what she was getting into when she said “I Do”.




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  4. Oh please. you know how my laundry pile sorts out? [said laundry REALLY needs to be tossed into the machine today if I want clean socks to wear tomorrow..meh] It goes like this
    1. my pile of denim and bath towels.
    2. my small pile of underwear.
    3. everything else. [shirts and socks. sweats]

    And that boys and girls is how it goes in the wash. 1 pile at a time. I don’t have a problem with color transference. Although if I’m really lacksidaisical about it sometimes that pile of denim and bath towels ends up going into the wash in two loads instead of one.




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      1. The whole gallon?

        Was there any laundry in the tub when the cycle was over???

        My mom tried to bleach out a white T-shirt after I got it covered with filth from playing in the woods.

        The thing looked like I’d survived a piranha attack after the wash!




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  5. I’d say your ether very stupid or very clever. If your never asked to do the wash ever again……….You were very clever to muck up the job the only time you ever did it.




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    1. Ask me about the time I did a wheelie with my fathers brand new riding lawn mower (yes alcohol was involved) . Then ask me it took 3 years to finally notice I hadn’t been asked to mow the lawn ?




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  6. Oldest sister caught me folding my laundry one day.
    “Your clothes aren’t clean.” she informed me.
    “Thay just came out of the washer, they’re clean,” says I.
    “No, they aren’t: your underwear are gray,” I am alerted.
    “I don’t care about the color: they’ve been washed and dried.”
    “If your girlfriend sees those, she’s going to break up with you.”
    “Umm, Sis- if she’s looking at the color of my underwear, she’s looking at the wrong part of me,” I inform her.
    You’d be amazed how often Little Sister tells me to bring my laundry over and she’ll wash it.
    Except now I buy colored shorts and don’t own anything white. Well, sox, but who looks at my feet?
    Everyone.




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