Candlelit Mindfulness

Don’t be fooled by the title. This post is neither romantic nor particularly mindful; although, if having an abrupt wake up call makes one more mindful, then maybe it’s partly an accurate title. The thing is, I kind of set my underpants on fire this morning.

I lit a candle to start the day off with a pleasant wake me up ambience, and placed said candle on the counter in the kitchen. Then I went about my morning chores. I was putting away Christmas decorations and doing loads of laundry while awaiting the arrival of a service man, keeping one eye on the clock so I didn’t forget to watch for the Orkin guy.

The dryer buzzed, and I took out a load of clothes that included a few pair of my undies. As I turned away from the dryer, the doorbell rang signaling the service man’s arrival, so rather than carry the clothes with me to answer the door, I plopped them on the kitchen counter.

As I opened the door it occurred to me what I’d just done. “Come in!” I cried at the startled Orkin man. “Shut the door behind you, I think I just started a fire in the kitchen.”

Thank goodness only one piece of clothing had fallen into the candle. There were no flames, just a bit of smoldering cotton. And fortunately my mistake only affected a pair of undies that should have been relegated to the rag bag a long time ago.

Nevertheless, I learned a lesson here. Be careful where you drop your drawers.

Peace, people.

Laundry

Normally I take on the task of doing our laundry on Mondays. With just two of us in the house these day the once dreaded and seemingly unending chore now only requires a couple of hours of my time. I actually enjoy doing laundry now.

Studly Doright did quite a bit of traveling this past week, both for work and recreation, so he dumped a suitcase full of dirty clothes on the bathroom floor this Sunday morning and then asked if I’d mind doing laundry this afternoon.

“No, I don’t mind at all,” I said. “But why do you need for me to do laundry today?”

“I’m changing my name to Laundry,” he quipped and ducked out the door before I could throw something at him.

Inefficiency Expert

Here’s a riddle: If a domestic goddess has spent the morning doing laundry and ends up with a load of towels, washcloths, undies, and socks to be folded and subsequently put away, how many trips will it take her to complete the job?

Answer: (choose one)

A) 4 (one to load the washer, one to transfer load to the dryer, one to carry the items to a place for folding, one to carry the items to their storage place)

B) 25+ (one to load the washer, one to transfer the load, one to carry the items to a place of folding, 21+ roundtrips to put away items by category and/ or purpose.)

If you picked A, you don’t know this domestic goddess very well. B is the proper response. Why, you might ask, would anyone be dumb enough to operate with B as the template? 

My Fitbit made me do it.  

sorry for the blur, but the number shown is the number of steps I’ve taken today just doing laundry.
 

July in Tallahassee, Florida, is hot as blue blazes and humid, to boot. Exercising outside is best done early in the morning or late in the evening. Since I slept until 8 a.m., I missed out on the prime walking time. 

Studly Doright feels slighted if I go walking during the evening (besides, that’s when the creepy crawlies are about), so I had to find a way to get my steps in without leaving Doright Manor. Thus, I’ve become an inefficiency expert. 

As the day progresses, I’ll make multiple trips from the laundry room to the master bedroom to hang clothes one at a time. If I leave the house I’ll gather shopping bags separately for individual trips to and from the car. At the grocery store I’ll determine the route that is least efficient, often crisscrossing the store a dozen times.

For me, this exercise routine is second nature. I’ve always done every task possible in the most illogical way, so capitalizing on this tendency is a win-win. Now, with my Fitbit I have a witness. And it has yet to scoff at my methods. I can’t say the same for Studly Doright.

Peace, people.

  

Down and Dirty

The hours I spend at Tallahassee Animal Services as a volunteer are the among the best of my week. Only surprise calls from my grandchildren can top being with the cats and kittens at the shelter.

Each week has its pleasures: cuddling a sweet kitty and feeling it purr against my chest, enticing a morose cat from her perch at the back of a kennel to come closer for a behind-the-ear scratching, watching a hopeful feline leave with his new family. 

But each week has its little messes, too. This past Wednesday I spent some time doing laundry and putting it away. The shelter goes through countless loads of dirty towels, blankets, and cloth toys. Soiled items are placed in an oversized trash bin. 

I grabbed an armful of laundry this week and was rewarded with the icky wet smell and feel that only dog pee can produce. And now I had that smell, too. All over my tee shirt. 

Having successfully loaded the washer I stooped to pick up a substantial piece of fuzz from the floor and realized just in time that it wasn’t fuzz, it was poo. Stinky, relatively new, poo. All in an afternoon’s work. 

Here are just a few of the animals available for loving adoption at Tallahassee Animal Services. Remember, “Don’t Shop, Adopt!”

 

Ben
 
 
Manny
 

 

Sebastian
 
Peace, people!

Home Sweet Laundry

My cats were glad to see me when I arrived home Tuesday afternoon after a week on the road. Studly Doright was, too. I could tell by the way he purred when I rubbed between his ears. 

Today has been devoted to laundry. It could’ve been much worse, but Studly took it upon himself to do his own. I did a happy double take when he told me that he’d successfully pushed the appropriate buttons on both washer and dryer. He even took the time to learn how to properly use the Tide pods that I’m so fond of. 

Studly has always claimed he didn’t know how to do the laundry. Now, this is the man who taught me the difference between a two-stroke engine and a four-stroke. He’s the same one who made sure I knew how to check my own oil and to change a tire. And yet somehow laundry mystified him until this past week. 

Well played Studly. Well played.

Peace, people!

  
He’s really good with the grandbabies, too. No instructions necessary.

Peace, people!

Rules of Laundry

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Laundry Day Monday
Clothes grouped
Strictly in neat piles:
Whites with like
Darks the same.
Delicates,
Hand washables,
Unmentionables
Require special
Piles all their own.

Yet I’ve found the
Nearer I come to
Laundry Day’s end,
That some piles slyly
Begin to migrate,
Merging with similar
Neighbors
Cutting ten loads
Into five.

And only I know the
Rules have been broken.
I’m a bit of a maverick that way.
Shhhh.

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