|"And the I said to Bill, why do we need an energy efficient machine when we can do the neighborhood's laundry in Marlene's hot tub?"|
There comes a time in every woman's life when she pulls a shepherd, a building block, and the Angel of Bethlehem out of her washing machine.
Quiet. You'll get there.
And she, like myself, will look at the poor shepherd and wonder whether she meant to wash him in cold water for efficiency, or if that was supposed to be her husband's socks instead. And then she wonders why people even wear socks. And after that, why people even need to do laundry except to clean shirts to cover stretch marks.
Laundry's a funny thing, like falling on to a bear trap, or a bill you forgot to pay that makes its self known by a collection notice telling you you have two days to pay it or you're going to jail. "Laundry," I tell it, "you're a smooth talker and a good friend."
"Paige," it replies, "I'll never leave you."
"Not even if we spend the whole day together?"
"Woman, I said never."
Now that there are five Kellermans to clothe, there's always laundry to do. And I have to say, it's given me the time I've always craved to bond with every dirty sock, shirt, and pair of pants we own. I tell it my hopes and dreams.
"If I pre-soke this shirt, do you think there's a chance oil stain will come out?"
"Perhaps. I say you just cut it out with scissors and hope for the best."
I sigh. "Sounds good."
"Yes," I reply as retrieve socks from under the dryer.
"If I start journaling again, would you support me?"
"Absolutely. It's good to get your thoughts out on paper."
"That's what I thought, but the ironing board's always like, "That's such a waste of time. I don't get it."
"Who cares what she thinks? She's basically a bookshelf for things I don't want to put away."
No, it's the laundry's steadfast devotion that keeps me coming back. Sure, we see each other more in the winter, but we make things work around swimsuits that were used to base jump into mud puddles or long sleeve shirts someone thought would work great to clean up an accident in the bathroom
Maybe that person was me.
I'll never tell.
Because I love him. Because I just can't be away from the smell of fabric softener or I break out in a bad case of free time. Because the Angel of Bethlehem actually does enjoy a shampoo and style once in a while. But really, who doesn't?
Until Next Time, Readers!