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After yesterday's wrestling with nature outside, doing the laundry first thing this morning would, you'd think, be a relatively simple chore.
Ha.
In addition to a week's worth of work shirts and the usual assortment of workout gear and unmentionables (sorry to mention those), I tossed in a fitted sheet, which had come straight from the linen closet. It had gotten garden dirt all over it when I went in there to retrieve a towel at the end of my ordeal yesterday, so it seemed fitting ::koff:: to wash it as well.
Ha ha.
Within the hour, I headed down to switch everything to the dryer, and found a perfect example of what had, until recently, been entropy in motion. The entire load was entangled in itself. One pair of briefs had had hot steamy washer sex with the fitted sheet, wrapping each of its leg holes under one of the bases of the agitator and stretching its elastic as far as Messrs. Froot or Loom had ever envisioned. Then all three dress shirts got in the act, forming knots with the fitted sheet, and each other, that would qualify for a merit badge.
Undershirts seemed surprisingly unaffected by the whole business. Socks simply paired off and kept score.
Somehow, neither washer nor load suffered any breakage or rippage as I slowly undid everything, and tossed the lot into the dryer- minus the fitted sheet. Eleanor didn't notice it just now when she tossed a load in the washer, so one can only imagine what trouble it will now cause.
Ha.
In addition to a week's worth of work shirts and the usual assortment of workout gear and unmentionables (sorry to mention those), I tossed in a fitted sheet, which had come straight from the linen closet. It had gotten garden dirt all over it when I went in there to retrieve a towel at the end of my ordeal yesterday, so it seemed fitting ::koff:: to wash it as well.
Ha ha.
Within the hour, I headed down to switch everything to the dryer, and found a perfect example of what had, until recently, been entropy in motion. The entire load was entangled in itself. One pair of briefs had had hot steamy washer sex with the fitted sheet, wrapping each of its leg holes under one of the bases of the agitator and stretching its elastic as far as Messrs. Froot or Loom had ever envisioned. Then all three dress shirts got in the act, forming knots with the fitted sheet, and each other, that would qualify for a merit badge.
Undershirts seemed surprisingly unaffected by the whole business. Socks simply paired off and kept score.
Somehow, neither washer nor load suffered any breakage or rippage as I slowly undid everything, and tossed the lot into the dryer- minus the fitted sheet. Eleanor didn't notice it just now when she tossed a load in the washer, so one can only imagine what trouble it will now cause.