This morning, I only wanted to eat last night’s leftover
spaghetti but instead I was proactive. I delayed a short-term reward and washed curtains. There’s nothing that makes a room look
fresher than clean white curtains. I took down the basketweave linen curtains
in the living room and the percale curtains in the bedroom and threw them in
the washer. Just to fill the space
I added white socks and two towels.
Homemaking smugness was going to be knocking at my door.
When the washer stopped, I took one linen curtain out of the washer. Something was wrong. I thought I was the victim of Dante’s Inferno Washing Hell also known as - somebody’s pocket was full of Kleenex and now a million bits of tissue are distributed all over the clothes. I felt what I can only describe as a mini stroke. You stand stone still and stare while your brain looks through the files for a solution. But wait. This couldn’t be Kleenex because nothing in the wash had pockets. It had to be something else. Darn you beautiful linen basketweave curtains that let in a muted contemplative sunlight and yet deliver privacy. Darn you subtly textured linen that was just waiting to dissolve into fuzzy gunk that would collect in clumps too numerous to approach but drop like confetti on my kitchen floor. I could vacuum the curtains but I have to wait until they dry or I might electrocute myself.
When the washer stopped, I took one linen curtain out of the washer. Something was wrong. I thought I was the victim of Dante’s Inferno Washing Hell also known as - somebody’s pocket was full of Kleenex and now a million bits of tissue are distributed all over the clothes. I felt what I can only describe as a mini stroke. You stand stone still and stare while your brain looks through the files for a solution. But wait. This couldn’t be Kleenex because nothing in the wash had pockets. It had to be something else. Darn you beautiful linen basketweave curtains that let in a muted contemplative sunlight and yet deliver privacy. Darn you subtly textured linen that was just waiting to dissolve into fuzzy gunk that would collect in clumps too numerous to approach but drop like confetti on my kitchen floor. I could vacuum the curtains but I have to wait until they dry or I might electrocute myself.
Repeat that joyful moment five times for all the other
curtains and the towels. Forget
the socks. I could conceivably wear
socks with linen clumps embedded in their cottony thickness. (I love that word embedded). The only good to come of this is a post
for my voracious blog.
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