I finally have the strength to blog about doing laundry -- yes, I'm actually terrified to sound too cocky about mastering the process when it was so initially daunting. I thought for a while that blogging about my triumph over the washing machine would result in a magical shrinking of sweaters. Something akin to laundry karma or like the laundry gods were watching me closely..."just make sure she doesn't choose the wrong temperature...as soon as she does, we'll have our chance!"
Let me explain. Laundry in Europe is not the same as it is in America. I discovered this startling fact when my mom lived in England for 6 months and her washing machine was not only located in her kitchen but only had the limited capacity to wash only 3 socks at a time or 1 pair of jeans -- solo. Any more than that and you could expect half of your clothes to come out dry. So I wasn't too surprised when the washing machines held half of the amount of clothes as my American machine. What I wasn't prepared for was the onslaught of Swedish language on all of the buttons. DUH! I'm in Sweden. Even still -- some American washing machines make it really easy to deduct what settings you are selecting. They have water drops, numbers or clear symbols to indicate if you're choosing hot hot hot water or cold water. These Swedish dials are in Celsius (little conversion necessary) but I have no idea what temperature is appropriate for my clothes. The last thing I want to do is have Jon's red sock bleed onto my white sweater. Needless to say, I sort and divide my clothes by color and linen type. Just in case.
|so many options!|
|There is a note on the page saying, "Does anyone know how the dryer works?"|
|"I'll turn your clothes into dry flat discs that will scratch your skin for eternity!"|
I have yet to shrink anything essential or dye any of the pillowcases so I think I'm starting to game the system. I can't call it a complete success because the whole process involves me schlepping a HUGE bag of laundry, Calvin in his Ergo carrier and a box of laundry soap down 5 flights of stairs into the basement. It will be the bane of my Mondays but who likes Mondays anyway?