Driving down the road, I saw what could only be someone's laundry that must have either made a break for freedom from the open bed of a pickup or which was deliberately cast aside rather than to wash it yet again.
Since I have a philosophy of wash a load/burn a load when it comes to getting the job done, I can completely commiserate with the person who may have thrown the laundry out the window and feigned innocence when they arrived back home rather than pursue the tedious and tiresome chore of washing the same stuff every single week. It does make a body wonder why "fashion" was such a good idea.
We manage to invent all kinds of good for mankind stuff that is "new" and "revolutionary". But we have yet to tackle self cleaning clothing that also puts itself away. Likewise, we have yet to create any real sense of progress in the never-ending parade of stuff that requires our undivided attention around the house.
Where is Rosie the Robot who can whip us up a scrumptious dinner from the pedestrian leftovers that crowd the refrigerator? Or how about that Star Trek food replicator that can take our personal dietary recommendations from our trusty doctor and make it into something dreadfully healthy and useful but that tastes a whole lot like a yummy and decadent hot fudge sundae? But I digress... back to the laundry.
The Merrill wash is now whirling along. I put in a load of towels because frankly it seems like we breed them. I'm not sure how we go from gleaming pristine and delightfully empty hampers on Saturday to three overflowing hampers of mostly towels on Monday morning. I demand to know who is sneaking into my home to shower!! Furthermore, I demand to know why these shower thieves cannot learn to toss in a load of whites!!
With all the complaining, I must also add my gratitude at having a laundry pair. There is nothing nicer than clean clothes that you didn't have to bundle up, carry out to a wash-a-teria or laundromat and pay nine prices to clean and then bundle up, carry in and put away. For the record, I'm sorry for every newlywed couple and college student who is compelled to do just that. We have lived that particular slice of paradise ourselves. But take comfort! Faint heart never won fair maiden! It builds character! It won't last forever. And other crap like that.
One day, you will have your OWN washer and dryer. They will not inspire you to the great heights of laundry derring-do shown in commercials nor will you get some kind of special tingle when you are whirling a load of barf coated sheets at midnight in your own place. That particular thrill fades and is actually of a rather limited duration when you come to realize that the laundry is never really done. Just as soon as you complete washing, drying and folding up every single living thing in the house, someone spills, pukes, pees or splatters mud on the clean clothes.
It's all good. I promise.
The loads of laundry can either inspire you or defeat you! Never give up! Never surrender! And never wash a red towel with your white undies!
So here we are at the heart of the matter. My machines work today... Beth's did not. So she came over with tomato soup, crackers and laundry in hand with the intent of washing "the essentials" to prevent public nudity. While I'm sure that many people would have indeed enjoyed the display had she and Pete forged ahead sans attire, I'm equally sure that I lack sufficient bail money and would have been reduced to visiting them at the Jail so I could point and laugh and make disparaging remarks about whatever required disparaging. Of course, prior planning might have sold enough tickets for us to all become debt free... no really, I wouldn't do that. It would be wrong... or something.
I have had several occasions to humble myself and haul our laundry elsewhere when my own "in-house" machines took an unscheduled vacation. So I completely sympathize AND empathize with the frustrated and defeated attitude that accompanies the discovery that your own machines have died. It is an inconvenience and a trouble that shouldn't belong in the day. It is also a reminder that we might have far too many clothes or far too few. Right now I am not sure which it is.
This kind of personal suffering truly makes you completely reconsider the use of high explosives in your home. Like the visitors to Neverland, washing machines CAN fly with addition of sufficient force and the special pixie dust we like to call TNT. Your neighbors might not speak civilly to you should your formerly grounded machine crush their petunias, but at least for a time you were blissfully stress free. It begs the question: is it a crime to commit laundrycide for merely plopping your broken washer upon someone's flowerbed?
Soon, this gypsy laundry caravan will cease and our revelry over the next batch will come to an end. The requisite part for repair will arrive and be installed, and the machine will once again churn along at Beth's house. For Beth, I'm sure that knowing the required repair part has been ordered and is only days away impels one to patience - or some unreasonable facsimile of same. At least Beth and Pete can sleep well tonight knowing that their unmentionables have both been mentioned AND cleaned.
Poor Alexis is on her own...
No comments:
Post a Comment