Permanent Press-to Chango

My husband gave himself food poisoning again this past weekend. This is the second time now that he has done this. I see his adventures into digestive distress as a sign that he is finally embracing the women’s movement, albeit a millennium too late. This is because, in the past, he has relied upon me to cook inedible meals.

I owe his new found gastric consciousness and capabilities to, what else, the movie industry. I have been working on movie sets in Iowa non-stop since May. During these past five months he has learned to fend for himself, with the exception of doing the laundry. I still have no intention of letting him near the washing machine no matter how long the hours on set may be. There is absolutely no telling what he would throw in there. There also is no horror movie made to date that is any where as terrifying as the sight of what I would find in the washing machine after he’s done a few loads. Scary. Very scary.

I remember all too well what happened to my friend when her children helped her. Her children had convinced her that they needed a dog. Make that dogs. She has two children and they each needed a dog. Of course, two children cannot share one dog, so each child needed a dog. The oldest one, a calm laid back easy going soul picked out “Buddy”, a calm laid back easy going dog who was also house broken.

Her youngest picked out a devil dog with the misleading name of “Sweetie”. The dog’s temperament was fitting. This child played for the “devils” on a youth sports team. Therefore, a devil dog for a devil child was appropriate. Sweetie, the devil dog was housebroken but used selective memory and random occurrences of this talent. Therefore, Sweetie’s accidents were not accidents at all but deliberate and, I am sure, premeditate acts of mutiny and mischief.

So, therefore it was no surprise when my friend noticed a strange odor coming from her laundry one day. She checked the clothes in the dryer and discovered skid marks. Really gross skid marks caused by a “dog present” that had gone through the laundry in tact and made it into the dryer as one difficult to dissolve sausage shaped unwanted item. It was attached to a piece of clothing and left marks all around the dryer. Common response: Ew gross.

While my husband is house broken (thank his mother for that one), there is no telling what he leaves in his pockets. Our laundry has to go through a number of tests before it is safe to toss into the washer. One test is the clank test. The clank test is performed by taking any piece of laundry and slapping it against the outside of the washing machine. If it clanks, and it has not belts, buckles, or large shiny metal buttons, it is not safe in the machine. It has ‘objects’ of unknown origin in the pockets. Items failing the clank test get recycled back into the laundry test pile on the floor of the spare bedroom. My husband watches TV in there. He has plenty of time to check pockets before chucking dirty clothes back into the hamper.

This actually is one of those logic statements. The full statement goes something like this. My husband watches TV. My husband watches a lot of TV. My husband watches a lot of TV in the spare bedroom. There is dirty laundry which didn’t pass the clank test on the floor in the spare bedroom. Therefore, my husband has ample time to inspect the pockets of his dirty laundry before landing it in the hamper.

There’s also the moisture test. If it looks wet, it is probably sweaty and crawling with bacteria. Therefore, it is not safe to touch. Laundry which is not safe to touch is not going to be picked up by me and chucked in the laundry machine – at least not with my bare hands. Common response to wet or damp laundry. Ew Gross. Solution to gross wet or damp laundry – barbeque tongs and forks. These work very well for picking up yukky bike clothes that need to be detoxified in the wash.

Since scientists have invented fibers and materials in clothes that they claim can “breathe”, I’m thinking the next step is to create ones that move on their own. Think of the possiblities. Dirty clothes can be trained to jump into the washing machine on their own. This could save families and marriages. Just imagine how much quality time families could have if the need to nag about picking up clothes was eliminated? I’m thinking highly trained technically advanced voice activated fibers in clothes? Socks and gloves would find each other – no more orphan socks or missing gloves. I have a number of right hand gloves just pining away into nothing after their missing left hand mates. Gloves mate for life, you know. Socks have a tendency to be a little more philandering but what would you expect from something that can be turned into a monkey puppet? But then socks also lead double lives as thumbless mittens and dust rags. What else could you expect but mischief from something like that?

Yes, our future with smart fibers would be great. Bedclothes could straighten themselves out. Clean clothes could point to dirty clothes hiding under the bed, or couch, or wherever else children and husband’s stuff them. A clever canvass back pack could sound an alarm when homework hasn’t been taken out to complete. Rugs could report on missing library books. Curtains might send a message about windows left open in approaching rain. Just as long as the fibers are taught a sense of decency. I don’t want any pants telling me that they make me look fat. I get enough of that back talk from the mirror.