This is the second reference to the dryer I have written this week so you Freudians feel free to judge and explain what is wrong with me. You know when you have worn a shirt and managed not to spill coffee on it? It is one of the “good shirts” and it is sitting on top of the laundry pile having avoided the osmosis funk that lurks just beneath that top layer. If this shirt is in the “starting rotation” I am not above getting a second wear out of it provided I administer a bit of at home dry cleaning. Am I alone in thinking that 5 minutes in a dryer with a dryer sheet not only gets out most wrinkles but also pretty much makes a garment clean again? I think that we can all agree that jeans don’t reach their optimal look and comfort until the third wear between washes but if you try to stretch that out to a fourth then you are just gross and lazy. While the jeans thing is a certainty that I would be willing to argue I have an inkling that I am not alone in the at home dry cleaning thing. I am a big fan of the dryer and its magic ability to “freshen up” something when I am in a time pinch. While I am interested if this is a common occurence in many homes that just simply isn’t conversation material during the fantasy football draft or bunco night, I do think it necessary to note that this works for outer garments only. If you do this to socks and underwear you aren’t fooling anyone, you have missed my point entirely, and to be honest, I feel sorry for you. Washing clothes in 5 minutes in the dryer is totally sweet.
Not cursing in front of your kids when you stub your pinkie toe or step on a Lego.
I feel pretty certain that in the deepest dungeons of Guantanamo and Abu Ghraib there were terrorists in blindfolds and bare feet walking around in a dark room with Legos scattered all over the floor. How is it that something so small and colorful designed only to bring joy and laughter to innocent children capable of inflicting the kind of pain that makes your extremities go numb and your eyes start to water? In general we are not a family of potty mouths and I am fairly certain that our children have never been subjected to any foul language spewing from mommy or daddy’s lips. That is not something that takes a great deal of focus or concentration but there are those moments when you kick the corner of the coffee table or step on a toy that is nestled in the carpet waiting for a victim that we have to think quick and be creative. SON OF A BISCUIT, JEEZE OH PETE, MOTHER OF PEARL, etc. We all want to be good role models for our children but when someone pulls out in front of you in traffic or the hoof of a “My Little Pony” digs into your heel we can be stretched to our self-censoring limits. So I guess not cursing in front of your kids is pretty sweet but feeling like you were just stabbed in the toe with a rusty spike and not being able to drop a much-needed F-bomb can be totally weak. What substitutes do you use in your house?