You continue to test my confidence as a domestic goddess in the laundry room. Heaven knows, I am trying to do better. After each mistake, I am ready to toss in the towel (not the literal one and not in the wash--the one that yells loud and clear...I give up!) and turn you over to the man of the house. It is clear you favor him. Evidence you say? You want evidence? How far back shall I go?
*Bleach rather than soap in the blue batch?
*Rick's sweater vest?
*Pink garments?
*Volcanic soap speing out of the machine?
*Blue garments with navy lace?
*Rusted spots on favorite white clothing in obvious places?
It takes me a great deal of persuasion just to try to attempt one more load and yet try I do. Just last week as I was unloading the darks, I came across a thick, black, wooly, tight, unrecognizable material. I opened it up for a better view. It was nothing that could possibly belong to any member of my household. I started to wonder if one of Noah's bears had a V-Neck sweater. The moment my mind heard V-Neck, my eyes met up with the sweater tag. It was my favorite, softest, coziest, black cashmere sweater that my sister had given me.
You could have picked on anything...dark socks or towels, old jeans, but no...you went straight for the taking. No one could even believe it was ever mine or ever a women's sweater. Of course I blamed you for your hot temper. Who knew I had to check your TEMPERature guage with each batch of laundry.
Oh and I could go on. Here it is spring break, time away from employment to play catch up with the 80 plus loads of laundry and you, Mr. Dryer, give me the silent treatment...nice...now I have to hang the items to dry.
I guess it took this incident for me to realize that you actually have a soft side. The towels are stiff and scratchy which only serves as a reminder of how much I need you...Please come back.
(Moments later)
Rick found me and asked if I would help him unload the dryer. I do not know what or how it happened. The dryer was on the dolly and Rick at the head. The next thing I knew, I was stumbling back into the wall. The vibration knocked the photographs right off the mantle...and the dryer was rol fell into the wall and watched the dryer roll down the stairs and the pictures shake off the mantle. I was terrified...I thought my cursing at Mr. Dryer was going to result in a broken foot. Rick was frightened and shaking. He never gets scared, which made the accident even more terrifying. Let's call a truce my washer and dryer.
Domestic Goddess in the Making
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