When my husband retired, he took over the washing and drying of our clothes.
This was a good fit.
He doesn’t rush through mundane tasks – resentful of the time it takes to satisfactorily complete them – like I do.
And he consistently demonstrates significant attention to details. Not something I ever do.
I noticed this shortly after we were married and became officially a blended family. We moved into a brand-new house and I began decorating. I painted our four-year old’s room a deep green, coupled it with white molding and picked out green and blue plaid carpeting.
I was a little matchy-matchy crazy in those days, so I looked for art to complement his room in the same color schemes. One day I found a darling print in the same colors as my son’s room. I bought it on the spot.
When it was framed, my husband picked it up. The frame shop owner, Rick, unwrapped the picture and showed him what the print looked like matted and framed. My husband took one look at it and was horrified. He told Rick that I couldn’t have possibly picked this out for a 4-year old’s room, but Rick assured him that I had.
My husband left the frame shop thoroughly perplexed. When he got home, he unwrapped the picture and asked me if this was indeed the picture I had picked out.
“Of course it is,” I answered casually.
“Do you know what this picture is?” he demanded.
“Yes,” I answered tartly. “I’m not an idiot. It’s Noah’s Ark with the animals going two-by-two.”
“Not quite,” he snapped back. “Take a closer look.”
I did. And then that is when I realized that the animals were doing a little bit more than just walking two-by -two.
The picture was never hung in our son’s bedroom. We hung it in our master bath – as a constant reminder to me to be more observant and a constant reminder to my husband that the woman he married may not be the most discerning woman on earth.
As I stated at the beginning of this column, it’s been a long time since I did wash. Yesterday, when I went to throw in a load of whites, I noticed a section of the washing machine blocked off with ugly black masking tape. It was the part that dispenses bleach directly into the washing tub. That’s when I realized how old our machine was.
Maybe it was time to look for a new one.
I started half-heartedly looking for sales.
I asked friends for recommendations.
I read about “exciting” new features every washer should have. Seriously? “Exciting”??????
Dual bin washer and dryer where you can actually wash a load of whites and a load of colors in two separate loads but at the same time. WOW! Absolutely riveting!
An “Emergency-Door Washer” which allows you to add left behind garments to your already started washers through a small, “second chance” door, keeping you from having to run an additional wash cycle. OMG! Couldn’t possibly live without this one!
“There is nothing worse than tossing in a load of dirty, grimy, stained clothing into your washer, only for it to come out looking just as bad as it did when you started your washer.” Seriously, do these advertising people listen to the world-wide news???? I can think of a few things worse than grimy clothes.
The whole process was becoming overwhelming.
But looking back, it wasn’t the many features that delayed me from buying a new washer nor the lack of sales nor lack of consensus of my friends’ recommendations.
It is simply this:
I’m 76 years old.
If I buy another washing machine, it will probably be the last washing machine I’ll ever buy.
I simply am not yet able to wrap my arms around that startling fact.
Keep Preserving Your Bloom,
