Today was “Second Laundry Day.” Kind of like “second breakfast” in the Lord of the Rings movie. It was the laundry that didn’t make it into the first, and official pile that I sorted through and washed, and dried, and folded yesterday. Things like the kids bathroom towels and my son’s bed sheets, which were a surprising addition.
You see, my son ascribes to the Elizabethan (the First) theory of bed linen hygiene – once a year is more than good enough. In fact, the last time I saw his sheets was when we bought the bed. He claims that his bed is so comfortable because it is firm. I think that is due in good measure to his sheets, which have the consistency of plywood.
The reason that his request for laundering his bed boards was surprising is that it is much too early for his annual cleansing. It did not become clear until I asked him, “Why the rush?” and he explained that he had to take his bed apart to look for something that he had lost.
This made perfect sense to me as his bed serves as his primary storage place for all things. I have no idea where he actually sleeps. He could probably fund his college education by auctioning off the beanie babies that hide amongst the thirty thousand other stuffed animals, clothes, kites, books, and assorted flotsam and jetsam of boy-teen life.
As long as I was doing another load of laundry, I threw in the garage towels to add padding to the washer drum in the hopes that the sheets wouldn’t dent it.
I have also performed other important tasks today. I took in my neighbor’s paper, which shows the level of trust, and esteem in which I am held around here. It’s not everyone who gets asked to be custodian of one’s neighbor’s roadside deliveries. In a little while, I’ll perform my second sacred duty and take in their mail.
I also drove up to see if my boat survived the first night it has had under the open stars in over two years. I’m trying to sell it, so yesterday, we hauled it out of the warehouse and parked it outside the locked building, but inside the locked chain-link fence. I had to drive by and see if anyone had vaulted the fence and made off with my boat and trailer on their backs overnight. Fortunately, it was still there.
Oh, and yes, the wonder dawg and I did our daily walk. It was kind of a penance for me. A peace offering if you will. Yesterday, on our way out to get the mail, I opened the back door and caught her paw underneath. She gave one of those rare shrieks of pain and while I was down on my knees petting her and begging her forgiveness, I found what looked to be a tick buried in the fur between one of her eyes and the adjacent ear. It was a tricky identification however and my near vision is getting worse as I get older. Even with my reading glasses on, I couldn’t tell for sure.
Better safe than sorry I thought and took her into the bathroom and got my medical hemostat out to pull the tick out. Well, it didn’t come out and I pulled pretty hard. Rather than subject her to more pain, I decided to wait until it got all jelly-beanie and dropped off on its own. The wonder dawg spent the rest of the day trying to hide from me and giving me furtive glances whenever her eyes met mine.
Today, before I put my contacts in, I lured her back into the bathroom and gave that tick a close-up viewing. Hmmm, looked more like a little skin-tag thingie to my very near-sighted, uncorrected eyeballs. No wonder she was trying to hide yesterday.