Laundry Morning

Dearest Rachel –

As with a number of mornings, I don’t really have anything in the way of a coherent story to tell you about today. No weird dreams, apart from a scene or two of the two of us competing in a old-school video game tournament against a number of other individuals and teams (one of which either was or had a cheering section two or three dozen strong, all wearing identical pale blue shirts with the same two words written on them in gigantic serif font). It may be an odd image, but without any more context, there’s not much to relate.

There were no deep thoughts that came to mind at the gym this morning, either. Not that you’d expect there to be; I’m usually so focused on beating (or at least matching) my usual time or calorie burn that I don’t really have mental space for philosophizing. It’s just as well, though, since getting my phone out to take down any sudden insights that emptying my mind to such an extent might be expected to produce would be a bit of a challenge were I in the midst of a workout, and even if I wasn’t, the amount of sweat resulting from my exertions tends to cause my phone to not recognize me or the touch of my finger. Either way, it’s difficult to use, so it’s just as well that nothing in particular comes to me during that span of time.

Even the results of those efforts, while dropping me lower in terms of weight than I have been since starting this journey, are hardly worth writing you about in and of itself. A half-pound advance is more than nothing ~ especially after four or five false starts in the past two weeks – but as it’s only likely to be water weight, by the time I’m done with breakfast, that particular advance will have been surrendered. Then again, each time I’d tallied the previous mark had been in similar circumstances, so perhaps this really shouldn’t upset me; it is something of an apples to apples comparison, after all. Still, it’s not as if I’m within range of breaking through another benchmark or some such.

But in preparing myself to head out, I discovered a few things that suggested that I would need to run a laundry this morning before heading out to the ‘office.’ Now, this used to be the sort of thing you would do on Sunday night; setting the stuff in one machine or the other in turn, while you would hang out in the family room and play on your computer or watch something on the television (or, more often than not, both – I could never figure out how you managed to divide your attention like that). And I suppose I could have done that last night, not having a lot to deal with once getting home from dinner with the family after church. But between having been up too early and losing track of time, it just slipped my mind, and by the time I realized that it needed to be done, it was too late (for me, anyway) and I was too tired to bother.

And really, it’s not as if there’s an overwhelming amount of clothing to process. Daniel and I could probably go another week – or even two – before we built up a pile that the washing machine might consider daunting; like I’ve said, that thing could wash for an army. But after three weeks of going without, he had thrown his Awana worker’s uniform in the wash last week, and so, it needed to be run through. Not that either of us wear ours for more than the couple of hours each week – and he claims to never work up a sweat, even running games for the kids – but I’d insisted, and he’d complied, so I needed to hold up my end of the bargain by washing it.

And let’s face it; unlike Daniel, I will admit that I work up a sweat exercising (although I’d wager that, if Daniel put in the effort that I was while at the gym, he would, too. Not that he needs to, at present, the lucky son of… well, us), so it was probably for the best that I waited until I’d returned from the gym to do the laundry. I don’t like having anything hanging around wringing wet for any length of time if I can avoid it, even if it is something that I’d otherwise consider relatively grubby. And in fact, what I wore this morning included an old Hebrew Coca-Cola shirt that I thought would never fit me again; when last you saw my try it on, even you agreed that it was getting tight. Now, however, it fits just fine, although it does feel a little on the short side – I wouldn’t be able to tuck it into my waist if I wanted to (not that I would, but still). Got to appreciate those little advances.

On the other hand, some things aren’t appreciated; for the second trip in a row, I’ve parked the car in the lot, and am making my way to the gym door before realizing that something’s missing. I’d left my towel at home, for… reasons. Mostly, forgetfulness – although I did have a devil of a time trying to locate it once I got home (It was in plain sight, sitting on the back of the toilet, but that’s not a place where I would have expected to leave it). So this is one thing that wasn’t going into this morning’s laundry, while the shirt I just spoke of did the yeoman work of mopping my brow as I burnt through however many calories as I could this morning. Given your familiarity with his work, you might quote Douglas Adams at me, just as a reminder that I’m not ready to go hitchhiking across the galaxy just yet. On the other hand, having found it (and therefore knowing where it is), it’s not like I’m on the verge of panicking or anything, either.

Anyway, I think I hear the dryer about now, honey, so I’ll need to take care of that. I’ll keep in touch, but until then, keep an eye on me, and wish me luck. I’m going to need it.