These are the chronicles of the Laundry Wars.
Although I’ve been a prisoner for many years, I am now wounded in action.
I am one basket of laundry beyond folded.
Today began all mellow-yellow. It was calm and quiet. My son went to a friend’s house and my daughter and I were just chillaxin. After lunch we decided to walk to the city pool. Sure it was a hike and a half. Yes, the neighbor marveled at our determination to swim, but the sun was shining and temps were rising. We were carefree and slathered in sunscreen.
Then my phone rang. A change of plans was bringing my son and his friend back to my house, so my daughter and I turned and headed towards home, sans swim. We were almost to our doorstep when my daughter’s two long-lost friends came walking down the street. It was a great reunion.
The kids spent the afternoon eating ice-pops and playing noisy games. Friends and frozen sugar – those are the things summer days are made of.
Then they removed the grate from the heating vent on the second floor. It’s not really a heating vent, but more of an airway. It’s a square vent that moves warm air from the first floor wood stove room to the second floor bedrooms. It works wonders in the winter. You can stand above the upstairs vent and feel warm air rushing through the grate.
The kids thought it would be great fun to pass stuffed animals from the second floor down to the first. At one point, a large dark green stuffed snake dangled in the air. The angry bird flew between the floors and was lost for a few minutes. The stuffed animals were running wild.
Since I’m a pretty laid back parent, I let them have their fun. I mean, I probably would have done the same when I was kid.
Since I relinquished all the good parts of the house to the children, I decided to get our laundry done. Like I said, I’ve been at war with the laundry for a long time. My washer leaks water, my dryer runs when it wants, and my laundry basket spews dirty clothes at will.
I’ve been losing this war on laundry, and I suspect I am not alone.
Someone once said (I think it was Sean Connery in The Hunt for Red October) that there is a certain peace only known on the other side of war.
I haven’t found peace in soap suds. Yet.
As if that’s not bad enough, my laundry wounded me in action.
I grabbed a great big pile of folded clean clothes and headed up the stairs. I walked about two steps through the hallway when my entire body fell to the floor and then kept falling.
Like so many say, time seems to stand still when something bad happens, namely an accident. My life didn’t flash before my eyes, and I certainly didn’t think I was about to die, but I did think “I am going to crash right through the floor.”
I was certain I would end up in my dining room on the first floor, but I didn’t fall that far.
I only lost a leg and a pile of laundry to the hole. Unfortunately it felt as though I’d broken my shin. I hung there between floors and wondered how in the world I was going to pull myself out. My son witnessed the entire episode. If I had my wits about me, I would have sent him for my camera.
Imagine a shot of my leg dangling through the ceiling?
Surely I could have won some bloggy award for that.
But I wasn’t thinking straight. So I pulled myself out and hobbled back down the stairs.
Laundry – 7, Me – 0
I don’t think I broke anything, but I’ve got bruises a plenty. The only blessing is that this totally gets me out of doing Jillian’s Killer Buns and Thighs video. At least for this week.
Don’t you worry though, I may be wounded, but I am not defeated.
The Laundry Wars will continue. I will conquer the enemy and the load of whites sitting in the washing machine.
Who will fight with me?
Pick up your Soap and your Softener and Wash on!