A laundry crisis

Yesterday, we bought a new washer and dryer.  They were almost exactly half the cost of the thirteen- year-old pair we were replacing, so we felt pretty pleased about the whole experience.  Of course we were shopping at "Scratch and Ding City" which is where we get all of our appliances - this explains part of the savings.  Why would I care if my dryer has a dent in the side?  It's housed in our basement,  and, like a surly teenager living in a basement room, our friends rarely see it.  When the clerk tried to sell us a maintenance package, I stuck up my nose.  Everyone knows those things are a giant waste of money.

Sooooo….this morning, I decided to do my first solo load of laundry.  I threw in the darks, dumped in the soap and off I went.  About two minutes later, I heard a giant thumping noise.  I tried to use the "if you ignore it, it will go away" principle but it didn't.  Not knowing what else to do, I turned off the washer, opened the door and peered in.  The clothes were now saturated and heavy.  Maybe it was a zipper that I'd left open?  Before I restarted the load, I gave it a sort of half-hearted shake.  In my mind, if it were off balance that would solve the problem.

For a while, everything seemed okay.  Just about the time I was about to get smug, the thumping was back and as bad as ever. At this point, I was experiencing some mental conflict.  Do I tell Jerry or just try to live with it?  He will not be thrilled to have to borrow a truck to return the appliance to the store.  On the other hand, it is only 24 hours old and the noise is profound.  I rued my decision to blow off the five dollar a month maintenance fee.

I turned off the washing machine again.  When I opened the door this time, I found that, in addition to our dark clothing, I was washing a whisk broom.

Crisis averted.

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Mysteries

I have finally finished washing ALL our laundry, a feat so rare that I could write an entire blog about it alone.  I would too, if it weren't for those hilarious little men I call my grandsons.  They keep doing silly stuff that makes me laugh like I mean it and all I want to do is pass on the joy.  

But first, for you skeptics, here's a picture of the last toasty-warm load to come out of the dryer:

You can see from the background that it's still daytime!

Every piece of dirty laundry has now been washed and for one glorious moment, I bask in the glow of a (mundane) job well done!  Then questions creep into my mind; the kind of questions that can only pop up when every piece of clothing is clean simultaneously. 

Where's my favorite teal sweatshirt?  (Did I donate it and then forget?  Or did I leave it at that Italian restaurant?)  Why do I own eight black tee-shirts? (Am I a ninja-in-training?)  I used to have an entire bureau drawer of underwear but now I only have three pair!  What happened to the rest?  (That's the weirdest question of all.)

I'm not going to over think it.  I'm just going to go out and buy more.

* * *

Thinking of buying things brings me back to the grandson story.  I had the delicious pleasure of being with the boys at bedtime and Brody was sitting up on his mommy's bed in his superhero pj's, holding a small baby doll on his lap. How adorable is that, right?

Brody decided to feed his baby doll but he didn't have a bottle.  He solved the dilemma to his own satisfaction by stuffing the trunk of his toy elephant into her mouth.  

Pleased with himself, he looked up at his mother and said, "Where's my baby sister?"  To which Jessica responded, "You don't have a baby sister.  You have a baby brother."

Brody sat quietly for a moment, digesting this information.  Then decided he wasn't quite done with this conversation yet.  "Mommy," he said, "You need to go to the grocery store and buy me some sisters."

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Wrinkles

"I do so hate wrinkles" my mother-in-law said to me in the late '70s.  It was during the permanent press craze when all you had to do was shake the leisure suits out and hang them up right out of the dryer.  Her statement amused me because I didn't hate wrinkles.  I didn't even notice them.  I was too busy chasing children and worrying about if my bikini made my butt look fat. 

Times have changed.  I don't have to wonder any more how my butt looks in my swimsuit because I already know.  I'm about the age my mother-in-law was when she uttered the wrinkle statement and now I get it.  These days I actually iron tee shirts and linen pants upset me on several levels.

I refuse to buy myself any clothes that say 'dry clean only' on the labels.  I don't want any garment enough to drive it somewhere, drop it off, wait a couple of days, drive back, pay, then drive back home again.  That's too much effort.

I am, however, the first one to run to the car and rush dress shirts to the laundry.  $1.65 per shirt seems a cheap enough price to pay to stay out of divorce court.  Jerry gets grouchy when he has to iron his own shirts and even grouchier when I iron them.  (Ironing is not one of my gifts.)  It's far from win-win at home but, for a small fee, we can keep this item out of the marital spat arena -- and we have enough issues in there already, ya know?

Since dry cleaning and dress shirts are off the table, the prima donnas in my laundry world are those garments that say, "Machine wash, gentle, lay flat to dry."  They are the bane of laundry day for me.  Half the time, I throw them in the dryer by accident.  They end up being dried to a crisp and come out looking like misshapen Barbie clothes. 

Vibrant orange, anyone?
Check out the shoes!

Even when I do wade into the laundry stream and rescue fragile clothing between the washer and the dryer, the 'lay flat to dry' part is still left.  Here in Humidity Village, SC, if you leave something out long enough for it to air dry, you've also left it damp long enough for it to smell sour, thus negating the entire washing process.

I bet you I could buy vintage polyester leisure suits on eBay.  Do you think Jerry would look better in baby yellow or powder blue?

Napkins

There are many reasons to use cloth napkins.  They dress up the table, they add an air of elegance, they're soft, they're washable, they're ecologically sensible, they're the green choice, they reduce landfill waste.  If you buy napkins during linen sales, you can usually get them for well under a dollar a piece.  If you sew, you can make them yourself for significantly less.  Over time, cloth napkins can be a frugal choice as well as a stylish one.

Several of my friends even have personalized napkin rings for everybody in their family so that they can use the same napkin all week long.  I don't think even I could use the same paper napkin for an entire day, let alone a week.  For me, cloth napkins are the obvious choice.

Here's my biggest reason for wanting to use them though.  Whenever I use paper napkins - even though I thoroughly check all my pockets before I take off my jeans at night and I also go through the pockets of every pair of pants I put in the washing machine - somehow one of those buggers always ends up getting laundered and then shreds to pieces in my dryer.  (I have no earthly idea why anyone would ever put a napkin in their pocket in the first place, but clearly sometimes they do.)

Catch of the Day

There are better things to do with my time than picking napkin shards off clean clothes.  (I'm not saying that I actually do better things with my time, just that I am aware that there are better ways to spend my time.  That's a small, but important distinction.)

If you are convinced that cloth napkins are superior, please mention it to Jerry next time you see him.  He prefers paper.