It’s a Washout

“Laugh at yourself first, before anyone else can.” — Elsa Maxwell

As soon as I opened the lid of the washer, I saw the evidence. Little white flecks were clinging to the clothes. Tissues! Tissues that were holed up in the nooks and crannies of my family’s clothing. Tissues that the agitator beat to a pulp and left behind to agitate me.

I have had my share of laundry indiscretions. I’ve put wool sweaters into the dryer and then had to sell them at garage sales as doll clothes. I’ve mistakenly put bleach where no bleach should ever go. The results were clothes that looked like they belonged to the tie-dye generation. My washer has been a toy car wash, produced water colors from crayons, soothed rough sheets with lip balm, and taken potato chips from oven crisp to washer limp. And yes, I’ve even laundered money.    

Laundry isn’t my favorite past time, but I find it necessary for personal hygiene. Clean body. Clean clothes. I’m doing my part. So why can’t my family do what I have told them to do over and over again? “Empty the pockets of your clothes of all matter before you toss them into the laundry basket.” I’m the mom. Doesn’t anyone listen to me?

Still annoyed, I dumped the speckled load of laundry into the dryer. When it was done, I was treated to a tissue storm as I shook out each piece of clothing. Whatever happened to tissues that could be washed, dried, and used again? Oh yeah, those are called handkerchiefs. As I pulled the last pair of blue jeans from the dryer, a clump of tissue fell out of the pocket. Evidence of the offender! Evidence from his – no her – no my blue jeans! I was the offender.

 Never mind!

See what’s in this laundry book basket:  Knuffle Bunny:  A Cautionary Tale by Mo Willems (Hyperion, 2004), Doing the Washing by Sarah Garland (Frances Lincoln Children’s Books, 2009), Stinky Clothes by Joanna Emery (Children’s Press, 2005)

Explore posts in the same categories: Life

2 Comments on “It’s a Washout”

  1. So my husband organized a large basketball tournament I was the person in charge of taking the entry fees to the bank. I must have shoved some money into my pocket during a particularly busy time. I washed the jeans and when I was moving them to the dryer I found $280. My 7-year-old was fascinated by money in the washing machine. She said, “Oooh, Mommy! Do another load.”

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