NO LAUNDRY CITY!

 

"Welcome to No laundry city. Your beloved spot on the planet, where you get dressed up anytime, anywhere without having to do the laundry. In here the municipality allows only four people per family. The housing is catered for. The municipality chose the families that are here today to be the first to experience this waited fantasy. In each house, there's a manual stating how you will dispose off your laundry. You are reminded that the municipality won't do any other household chores except for laundry and garbage disposal. The family that excels at the other house chores gets to keep the apartment and their stay here for the next month. You are allowed to proceed to your apartments. "

What was this melodious voice? Where did it come from? And who were these people in this glamorous city? Was this real? I threw my eyes to the person next to me. Her hijab veil can make you sneeze it's like an invisible spray of Downey sprinkles on her as she walks. White stays white black stays black until the day her clothes wear out. Reality hit me that it was my sister, Rukia. It is her, this is real. Why did they bring her to No Laundry City?

As I was smelling Rukia's veil, someone yelled and spanked me. "I told you not to wear my clothes, why did you take my dera? Do you want to stain it as you did with all your clothes? Take that off?" The yelling from Ramla, my younger sister assured me this, No Laundry city thing wasn't a fantasy, we were living it.

"You are grown-ups yet you still argue and fight in public? What will you do when I die? Kill each other? Will you stop all the drama?" Mum comes in handy every time we pull out this siblings drama. I don't blame Ramla for pulling out on me for wearing her clothes, I usually pull it out on both Ramla and Rukia when they wear mine. Mind you they always say my clothes don't miss a stain but they won't stop asking for my classy colorful headscarfs when going for hangouts.

My two sisters were in a nightmare. The only thing they enjoyed doing wasn't necessary here.

This reminds me of one time (in the previous home)I had not done my laundry for two weeks and the third week was almost kicking off. My suitcase was running out of clean clothes and I would be forced to repeat the deras or do the laundry or wear Ramla's clothes. Ramla on the other hand had five clothes to clean before traveling back to university.

"I am only doing this because I want to teach you how to do your laundry. Bring your dirty clothes to the backyard and let's wash them together before you start wearing my clothes when I go to school ." Ramla yelled in an annoyed tone. I owe her a lot and even though I annoy her, I know she loves me, to the moon and around and back 😅.

Ramla classifies her laundry into; white clothes, then  T-shirts, blouses and scarfs, then deras and dresses, then trousers and abayas, finally less and inner wears. She washes each group twice and rinses twice before letting the sun do the drying task. I on the other hand would do two rounds for all the laundry, changing the water when the soup oozes creaminess 😅 and I rinse once, I do it twice if the water becomes foamy. I usually start with white clothes then the rest follows. My sisters would remind me that I will get married and I will be forced to do laundry. I always remind them that I will make it clear to my fiance at the getting to know each other stage that I prefer hiring someone to do the laundry.

On that rare day, Ramla was giving me a helping hand but I couldn't stop reminding her of how she wastes a whole day doing her laundry. How she washes intensely until she injures her palms and her fingers bleed. A task that would take me thirty minutes would take her a third of the day. She will break for dhuhr prayers and come back.

Rukia, my elder sister isn't any different. She can spend a whole day doing laundry and wake up the next day wanting to do laundry 😅. She doesn't mind taking a break to prepare a meal and go back to her laundry zone.

I am not the only weirdo in this family, mum is also in her dream city. Mum would remind my siblings that her clothes aren't usually dirty, she washes them to get rid of the sweat. 😅

"Will you stop arguing and move! " Mum yells again because she was five steps ahead of where we were standing, at the entrance to the No Laundry City. In a few minutes, we were at our new apartment where our noisy, drunk neighbor did not have a place. We get in. And Oh My God! Our dream house! The five-inch TV, a dining table, a majlis. One room for the three of us. This wasn't good. Ramla jumps on the artistic bed, with so many pillows. This bed was meant for me and no matter how old I was, I wasn't letting her have it.

This bed is meant for me. I am the one who enjoys and loves simplicity and fewer details. I am the artist in this family. Go to the pinky, shouting bed. Get off!

Ramla pushes me away. I throw myself back in. Hold a book on my face. She surrenders the bed, I am thinking. Until she hits me with a pillow