So, life has been strange for…oh, the last three years or so. If you follow me, you know. If you don’t and you’re curious just start hopping around on this blog. I won’t rehash why, I’ll just say, for someone who has always cracked herself up…it’s gotten worse (heh).
We seem to always have a shortage of towels around here. We never had that problem when the laundry fairy was with us. My husband was of the belief that we were a “one load per day minimum” household. But seeing as I wrote all day, homeschooled our son, handled all kid stuff, and the various things that would crop up during any given day, he didn’t look to me to do it. If I didn’t manage to toss a load in during the day, he did it in the evening. The laundry fairy name evolved because during the weekend he’d blow through whatever was left. Like a madman. Load after load, until it was done.
We’d pass some loads off to the kids to fold. Or I’d so some. Or he’d do them all. It varied. I was the official ‘putter awayer’. Which is funny because I don’t mind washing or folding laundry, it’s the putting away that kills me. However, if someone is strong arming your laundry for you, you don’t complain.
We no longer have a laundry fairy. And I am the proud sole owner of two teenagers who often forget that things like…oh, clean towels, are important. Until they’re ready to get into the shower and don’t have any.
We’ve gotten a decent system down (at least we try). When they get low someone will throw a load in. Which is where this blog comes in. Like I said, we struggle with laundry, and I talk to myself even more than I used to when Jim was alive. And I am a funny motherfucker, so I crack myself up.
The other day my pile of laundry had gotten way out of control. And we were growing low on towels. To avoid getting out of the shower and wandering down the hallway wet, naked and shouting for anything, anything at all---a clean tee shirt, a dish towel, a paper towel, hell, a coffee filter, I was keeping a close eye on them as I bagged up a load to throw in. It sort of went: clothes, clothes…1 towel…clothes, clothes…two towels…three towels…four towels…five towels…And then the bag was full. I glanced at Jim’s photo on the bookshelf, tossed my head back, and said in my best Sesame Street Count voice, “Five towels!”
And that’s how I cracked myself up and why Sesame Street is still a major influence in my life. Or it’s senility but I’ll stick with my original theory. A pointless blog, really, but if there is a point it’s this:
Always make sure you have clean towels.
Always crack yourself up.
Always remember your lessons from Sesame Street.
Always find something amusing in every single day. Even if it’s a shitty one.
Somewhere my husband chuckled at my self-humor. Humor was big in this house (still is). Almost as big as clean towels and the one load per day minimum.