Laundry is a chore that no one particularly enjoys but in our house my girls have found a silver lining. My oldest daughter, specifically, loves few things more than having a basket of laundry (especially towels) fresh from the dryer dumped on her. There is something about wrapping up in those warm fresh towels that just feels awesome. While I can understand this little joy, I am a bit wary to share her enthusiasm due mostly to a bad experience with those copper rivets on a pair of jeans. Clothes fresh from the dryer are great but beware metal snaps and buttons. They have the propensity to achieve temperatures that would make the surface of the sun flinch in pain. I can remember a time long ago as a child waiting for pants to finish drying so I could put them on and rush out to the bus stop (sad pattern of poor preparation developing in this space). I was standing there mostly dressed waiting for them to get dry. My window of time was ticking down so I opened the dryer grabbed them and put them on. Ahh, warm and fresh as I slid each leg in grateful to be enjoying fresh dryer clothes on a cold morning. That was, however, until I got to the buttoning part and suddenly YOWWWZA! How the button on those jeans got that hot without melting is perplexing but what is certain is that any joy of warm clothes from the dryer pales in comparison to burning yourself with the button. Let’s all stop for a second and think about the location of the button on a pair of jeans and I am sure you can agree that it is a less than ideal place to attempt an accidental at home cattle brand.
That is why we try to keep the laundry avalanches confined to loads of towels and not baby clothes (those things are like a mine-field of hot ember snaps). It is a short-lived joy, but having a basket of warm towels from the dryer tossed on you is one of those little moments to savor. On a winter morning, especially, warm dryer clothes are totally sweet.
Yesterday I closed the garage with my tongue. (I should really probably make that the title for this blog post). I know I am not the only one, who when faced with the question, “how many grocery bags can you carry?” The answer always is “All of them.” I guess I trade in the lower body workout of going up and down stairs for the upper body workout of carrying 60 lbs of groceries. It is a tricky maneuver to maintain circulation in your hands as the handles cut into your skin and keep the bread bag from getting pinched by cans of green beans. Often, my feeling of triumph in not only grabbing hold of each bag handle but also being able to lift them out of the car is quickly defeated by the tougher obstacles now before me. First off, do I possess the super-human strength required to lift all of these bags above my head to close the hatchback (is that what you call the back door of a SUV?) of the car? Secondly, with my rotator cuffs in each shoulder slowly tearing apart, how can I get the garage door closed? I thought about trying to hit the button with my nose but that seemed silly and I was afraid people were watching so I stuck out my tongue and bingo! down goes the garage door. I waddle up the stairs and somehow get the groceries onto the kitchen counter before the fingers on my left hand turn completely purple from the seventeen tourniquets I have inflicted them to. Somehow, in my sophomoric inner person, I feel that congratulations are in order. Instead, I realize I left my phone in the car. At least my second trip should be much easier. Hitting the garage door button with your tongue? Totally weak.