Thursday, October 26, 2006
It Won't All Come Out in the Wash
Hello, Jared Moore with you today.
When Tricia and I first married, we both had a bit to learn about thoroughness. For Tricia it was about laundry. Raised by a single father who had little time or energy for domestic chores after his twelve-hour shifts at the mill, and having no mother to train her in the ways of home-making, poor Tricia didn't know where to start. I'd met her while on assignment in California, then moved her out here to Kanner Lake when we married, so the poor girl didn't have any girlfriends yet to help her out. I certainly wasn't any help; my mother had been a cross between Betty Crocker and Martha Stewart. Her pie crust was flaky, my dad's shirts and mine were starched and gleaming white, and the house was spotless. I had no idea how Mom did those things. I was just glad she did them, and I assumed my wife would do them too (don't lynch me, ladies. I've learned an awful lot since then.)
It all started with the first load of laundry. The morning after we returned from our honeymoon, I did what I'd always done at my parents' house--left my dirty clothes on the floor by the bed and went about my business. Later that day I suggested that my new bride and I go out to lunch. Tricia was thrilled and disappeared into the bathroom to get ready (a process I'd never realized could be so lengthy. My stomach growled louder and louder while I waited for my darling to emerge from the bathroom, but I didn't mind. I was in love after all. I figured I'd grab my wallet and wait out on the porch, but my wallet was nowhere to be found. I hunted high and low. No wallet.
When Tricia finally came out, glowing and gorgeous, I asked where she'd put my wallet. She said she hadn't put it anywhere.
"Well, where are my pants?" I asked.
"The ones you left on the floor? I put them in the wash."
"Didn't you take my wallet out of the pocket?"
Well, she hadn't. Nor had she taken out my pack of Wrigley's gum. No lunch was had that day. My driver's license and photos were ruined along with my laundered money and minty fresh, gooey clothes. I'll never forget that day. It was our first fight--me telling her she should have checked the pockets, her crying her little eyes out and saying I should have used the hamper and checked my own pockets. I did apologize and promised to check my pockets, but I'll admit I still used the floor more than the hamper.
There were more laundry incidents, like the time her new red sweater turned all my white shirts pink. My friends loved that one. And the time she didn't check her pockets and her lipstick came open in the dryer. Through the years, she's learned to whiten whites with the best of them. She taught me too, so I could do laundry when she decided to go back to school. I was sure thankful she showed me more grace than I showed her when I shrank a load of her sweaters. Turns out checking those little tags that give you washing instructions is just as important as checking pockets.
In some future post I may tell you what I've learned about careful checking while working on the paper. I was a reporter who couldn't spell in the days before spellcheck ...
Hours later, when he went into his bathroom, he found all of his sweaters hanging from the shower curtain rod, and the sleeves had stretched down almost to the top of the tub! Thankfully, he married me any way.
Glad you men can be such good sports!
Links to this post:
Bailey Truitt ~ Java Joint owner
Leslie Brymes ~ reporter extraordinaire
Carla Radling ~ realtor at your service
Wilbur Hucks ~ ya gotta love him
Jake Tremaine ~ retired logger
Ted Dawson (S-Man) ~ sci-fi writer
Hank Detcher ~ pastor and friend
Janet Detcher ~ keeps Hank in line
Bev Trexel ~ retired teacher
Angie Brendt ~ Bev's best pal
Sarah Wray ~ Simple Pleasures owner
Jared Moore ~ Kanner Lake Times
LEARN MORE ABOUT KANNER LAKE
A Christian Worldview of Fiction
Mary Ann Diorio
Girl's Write Out
Joy in the Litter Box
A Life in Pages
Pieces of Me
Readin N Writin with Patricia
Robin Lee Hatcher's Write Thinking
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