Here it is Friday again, and I am up to my usual business. Friday for me means laundry. More specifically my laundry and our laundry, but not her laundry. Allow me to explain. My laundry is everything I wear, socks, shirts, undies, pants, etc. Our laundry means bed linens, bath towels, wash cloths, and so on. Her laundry is what she wears. I used to do her laundry too, but for some reason she is pretty picky about what gets washed with what. You know that whole light and dark separation thing. This kind of fabric and that kind of fabric, it all seems kind of useless to me. To me if things come out a different color than they went in it’s like, “Hey I just got a new shirt!”

Since I’m on the subject of laundry, I’d like to clear up a couple of things.  First off I have done an exhaustive study over the last few years, and I have determined, with the use of the new washer’s and dryer’s that have glass you can look into and time laps photography, that there’s a whole lot of things going on inside those machines than ought to be going on in there.  I’ve witnessed socks, and they seem to be the worst, gang up on both tee shirts, and underwear, now this is where it gets ugly folks, those socks actually get together like a pack of wolves circling the herd, and once they isolate a defenseless tee, they turn it inside out. They’ll do the same thing to pair of drawers.

I’ve witnessed bed sheets and towels do this kind of “erotic dance,” and many times the dance ends up leading to the flat sheet and a towel wrapping themselves together in a way that should never be done. Then in its jealousy the fitted sheet will just reach out and engulf the entire bunch of socks, undies and tees, tucking them into its cavernous corners and hiding them, as a way of showing the flat sheet that two can play that dirty game.

Finally, during the entire drying cycle, all of the larger pieces of material whether shirt or towel, pant or pillow cover, attack the smaller items and force them to the back of the dryer, or sometimes they even make the small items hang themselves on one the paddles, making themselves almost impossible for me to reach, or even find.  If national geographic were to film the going’s on of a full laundry experience it could only be shown after midnight to an adult audience. It’s just too brutal for a small child to witness.  

Well, I just heard the buzzer from the washer signifying that it’s time to go pry my pour pants off the side of the wash tub, and put them in the dryer. I think it’s cruel the way the washer instructs the pants to cling to the sides of the drum, and give the agitator room to gloat over how it has just beat the snot out of everything in its way.

Till next time,

Grump