Midnight Washing

So as I have stated before, I am not FT. My wife is supportive, but not approving, and I have to shield what I am from my teenage children. I have to put these things in here so as to have some context, hopefully I do better than the folks that do various long arc TV shows, "previously on 24". The reality is there are parts of me that actually are FT. Namely, those things that people cannot see. I am shaved, I wear panties everyday, not for the rush, but because they are the "right" underware, and I can do it and nobody will know. Finally something every day that is correct.

Lately I have added womens socks, trouser socks and the occasional knee high, and sometimes, stockings to the mix. In fact, I do not wear boy socks anymore at all. Starting in January of 2009, I actually had the makings of a female wardrobe and started dressing in public, at support groups, and the outings we go on after. So in that sense, I am out. So what is the net result of this. Well a lot of good things but none of those are the subject of this post. This post, is about, laundry.

Yes mundane, boring, laundry. And in my household, a chore that has fallen down traditional gender lines. You see my wife, does the laundry, that is one of hers, I get other things, and well you know how that goes. Now I am not saying I never do the laundry, I am saying I do it infrequently. But since accepting being trans, that is different now. You see, she will not do "Sharon's" laundry, and since I am her, I get to do it. Now in reality that seems fair to me, a woman probably should do her own wash. At least that way it comes out the way she wants it to. And if you goof, you can blame yourself. So I do not have a problem with this. And frankly, I don't have much of a problem with most of the chores that I hear women complaining about.

In point of fact, my bathroom, off my home office, has been described by my son as the cleanest room in the house. I maintain it myself and so it stays clean. There is no peeing standing up in there! And it is a working bath, I shower there daily, and it is where most of my daily ritual takes place.

There was a point in time where as the primary (read that as single) breadwinner in the house, I thought there should be an equitable division of labor, I work all day, she (the wife) does not, I think she can do some of the domestic things. Cleaning my bathroom was apparently not high on that list. I gave up and found that in addition to the 60 hour work, and another 20 hours of volunteer time per week I would have to do most everything around the house for myself, or at least those things important to me. And if I wanted it on anything resembling a schedule I would have to do it. And I will say, me now being trans has made that far worse. Because there is an air of, well, you are doing what you want, and I am going to do what I want. We kind of intersect at the kids.

I sound like I am complaining, I do not mind doing the things, but I do mind having to trade sleep to get them done, which destroys my performance otherwise, and in the end effects the bottom line. And it peeves me when others around me are playing games and things. Seems a bit out of order. I am glad I make enough money for everybody but me to have the lifestyle they like. But that is all a rant for another post.

What was I going on about? Oh yeah, laundry. Well as you can imagine, now with daily undies, and socks and going out in public, I have some wash to do now and then. I have minimized how often by having like a months worth of panties on hand. But when I wash, it has to again be in secret, just like the rest of all of this. So, I started my first load at 12:30AM tonight. If I am lucky I will be done by 2AM. Why then you might ask? Because the kids are in bed and won't see dad washing his panties and ask questions. And so again, I am trading sleep for being trans. My alternative would a a laundromat, of course that would take even more time, and frankly might require more explanation.

God forbid I do not finish this and leave the stuff in the washer to dry in the morning, we might need a hazmat crew out in the AM. So I need to caffeine up and stew. So I wrote this post while waiting. Yes I know, I should have done something more productive. But my brain is jello now, so anything I might do would probably be wrong. At least posting, I can let my fingers catch the dribble coming out of my brain.

So here I sit, now 1AM, waiting for the washer to finish, so I can get things into the dryer, so I can shuttle them off to the secret hiding place. Amazing that some bits of colored nylon can cause panic in so many. And I guess that is the story of my life right now. I am trans, I know this. I am pretty sure I know where I am headed in responding to that. And yet I am told be prepared to give up everything you ever knew, work, home, life and love for it. Now why does it have to be that way. And why do I have to do my wash at midnight?

I think I hear the buzzer on the washer, time for the dryer...