Dearest Rachel –
You’d probably be able to confirm with me as to the French, but I do know that in Spanish, the verb ‘to clean’ is ‘limpiar.’ Which, while having absolutely no connection to our word ‘limp’ (Since that comes down to us from the German through Old and Middle English), is strangely appropriate for this morning. Because I just barely managed to get today’s load of laundry done, with the washing machine limping its way to its final cycle.
I woke up this morning to the usual silence – yes, I’m fully aware of the meme going around that the sound of one’s alarm clock is one’s theme music, as it starts every episode of one’s life, but I need no alarm clock these days – but one of my other senses was stimulated in its stead. Chompers had, as is his wont these days, fouled his blanket, as I could tell without even bothering to get up out of bed.
Fine; I’m used to this drill by now. I get dressed in what I’d been wearing the day before (I’m assuming that at some point after I tend to him, he’ll drift back off to sleep in the sunroom, and I might have the opportunity to shower and change), and I haul him outside, setting him up in his harness and retrieving this morning’s MRE, and noting that I still have to prepare six more of them to cover through the upcoming weekend rather than require Ellen or Daniel to assemble them. Once he’s fed and pottied and brought back inside, I gather up all of the blankets he’s, ah, used, during the past week, and chuck them into the washing machine, add a fairly full scoop of washing powder, and let ‘er rip.
You’d probably be concerned about how much I’ve been using the washing machine these days, in comparison to your usage patterns. I don’t bother to wait until I have enough to fill the machine to the brim each time with clothes – and I’m certainly not going to be putting anything else in a load with the dog’s stuff, especially considering what he’s done to them. So the loads I do are smaller and more frequent; you’d probably tell me that I’m wasting water. Look, I may well be, but he’s running out of blankets that he hasn’t christened at this point, and we’d all be better off for them being cleaned.
The problem is… well, actually, I don’t know what the problem was this morning. All I know is that, while I was finishing up my breakfast, the washing machine abruptly went silent. Normally, it stops and, depending on where in its cycle it is, I’ll hear the rushing of water as it prepares to rinse its contents, or a thumping rattle as it begins the spin cycle – and that last cycle sort of tapers off, rather than simply coming to a screeching halt.
When I went to check it out, the timer dial showed it was just about to start the rinse cycle, but for whatever reason, wasn’t continuing. I opened the lid, wobbled the basket about, and shut it – and it started up again. Lovely. For about ten seconds, at which point, it chunked to a stop again. So I repeated the process, maybe a dozen times over, before it finally began to fill up with rinse water. After that, it seemed to function adequately, although the machine practically began to walk once it reached the spin cycle. I’m not about to trust the machine to hold my weight, like the protagonists in Lily’s Garden, but I did lean against it until the machine finally stopped. So yeah, it limped its way through its entire cycle, and has likely done its last wash.
Still, it’s not like there’s a need to panic just yet. Almost everything is clean at this point apart from a handful of dark colored clothes, and we’re used to going a while before having to run laundry from before; only it’s been a while since we’ve had to do that. Hopefully, I can get something some time next week; I may have to check with Lisa as to whether I can do this before the remodeling starts, because I think I’m going to need to.
And as always, I’m also going to need a little luck, so… well, you know, honey. Take care; love you.