The Illusive Art Of Laundry
Ok, maybe this isn't deep, emotional or an earth-shaking announcement (which apparently based on the lack of comments and surprisingly neither was my Thanksgiving Day post) but it is on my mind nonetheless.
Somewhere around my bachelor party some 20+ years ago I was educated that they way to get around laundry duties was to ruin everything every time you got near the laundry machine. Well, I didn't actually think that was the best way to run a marriage, at least not consciously. Apparently my subconscious at least took a partial liking to it as I pretty much did just that the first few years of our marriage. I remember a particularly sexy piece of red lingerie that Frances repeatedly wore as pink and splotchy because of one of my laundry mistakes...but I digress. I really didn't seek to be removed from laundry duty but it pretty much happened that way. I can count on my fingers the number of times I did laundry before Frances got sick.
Then in 2008 we got a new washer and dryer - one of the few benefits of your house burning down. I was actually prohibited by Frances from touching them. It ranked up there close to the 10 Commandments, well okay not really but the prohibition did begin with THOU SHALT NOT...and ended with TOUCH MY LAUNDRY MACHINES! That worked fine, at least from my view point, until France got sick. Once Frances got sick and wasn't physically able to do things like laundry I had a lot more duties. But my laundry duties were for a very limited time and really I wasn't allowed to think about what I was doing, but rather I was just the arms and legs for Frances; I did as I was specifically told. As Frances' illness progressed we got more and more help in the house and (insert LONG list of wonderful women who helped here) did laundry for us up until a month after Frances died and Jenny moved out.
For many months now I have been on my own, and thought I was doing okay. In fact I thought I was doing great. I knew a little about sorting, although apparently "light (weight) and heavy" (which is the way I did it) is not as good of sorting as "light (color) and dark." And I do have to admit that I to this date am perplexed that our new machine doesn't have a "permanent press" cycle like the old one did...but again I digress. I even received great inspiration from some friends up in Washington who both husband and wife told me with good detergent and good washers you just put in everything that can fit and wash it on "normal" and all will be fine. I more than thought I was doing great, I was satisfied!
All of this until a few weeks ago when good friend Pamela was emptying the dryer for me and I got a good schooling on tights, and dresses, and certain socks, and sweaters and...and...etc. etc. etc. that all had to have a special way of doing things. In Pamela's words, "READ THE LABEL!" Admittedly I had never read a label in clothing except to note the size. And then Tia got to the point in my life where she is showing me how to do things and now I have learned that even if the label says it can be done a certain way that I should know that is not necessarily the best way to do it. It was clear to Tia that my lack of understanding of the unspoken (and unwritten) rules of laundry are the reason that my daughter's clothes don't fit, fit funny, are the wrong color and probably the cause of world war although no one has yet blamed me for that.
So why exactly am I writing this? I don't know, maybe because I am doing laundry and needed to vent (pun intended.) Maybe it's because I am confused. But most likely it's because I am frustrated. How exactly does one acquire this "sense" of knowing what to do, when to follow the label, when the label is wrong etc? Why can't this just be simple?
Up next: The Iron - You Can Use It For More Than Waxing Skis!
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