I've learned how to avoid laundry when feeling over-tasked by Christmas-related chores. Lean in close and I'll share my secret . . . get your dryer to die.
OK, so maybe not the most economical suggestion. This could lead to a bit of a headache. For starters, you'd have to shop for a dryer - during this, the most financially draining time of the year. Plus you'd be forced to go without clean clothes for a few days. You'd have to free up your calendar so that when the new dryer arrived on the 22nd you'd be willing and ready to do approximately 10 loads of laundry.
Yes, unfortunately, I speak from experience.
Curly had four little friends over to bake Christmas cookies on Saturday. I made a mountain of dough the day before. That's where my well-organized plan ends. They hung out in the basement while I covered my table with wax paper. Who knew that could take so long?
I was dripping in sweat by the time I had shoved their individual baking sheets in the oven. Taken them out. Shoved them back in. Set them on drying racks. Lit the candles on the cake, took their photo (while having Curly facetime the one girl who couldn't come), videoed them singing happy birthday, whipped up a bucket of frosting, divided frosting into little bowls with various colors, and scattered about 25 cookies cutters all over the table. SOLO.
|The only food coloring colors they had at the tore were weird, but they made them work. The orange was the most unseasonal.|
Mini DID bake a boxed cake for the party that morning without burning the house down, which is a huge accomplishment for her. Then she napped all afternoon after sleeping over at a friend's house the night before.
Coach preferred to disappear, so he went to workout.
Curly couldn't have been more grateful, but I was exhausted and so glad when it was over.
Anyway, as we were cleaning up the house before the girls arrived, I sent Curly to see if her jeans were dry in the upstairs laundry room.
ASIDE: A little fun trivia about the Shenanigan laundry method: I wash whatever loads look like they're in need of getting done. I have 3 baskets labeled in the laundry room. My friend, Becky, died laughing the day she saw my choice in basket-labeling verbiage. 1. Underwear & socks. 2. Workout clothes. 3. Real clothes.
My reference to 'real clothes' pertains to clothes that one wouldn't wear while working out. Coach's casual work clothes, jeans, tops, sweaters, things that should be removed from the dryer so that they don't wrinkle - those are real clothes. They require real attention. I mean workout clothes ARE real, but if I leave those in the dryer or don't fold them right away NO ONE WILL CARE.
The boys rarely wear jeans or anything 'real'. Mini leaves her dirty clothes in a corner until her only option is to be naked. So, the real clothes bin isn't typically begging to be washed.
Curly pointed out to me the day before that I hadn't washed jeans in FOREVER. Oops. I guess I was on autopilot and hadn't even glanced at the towering pile of real clothes. I did a load early Saturday morning so that she'd have something to wear when her friends were over.
(back to our story in progress) Curly came downstairs frustrated that her jeans weren't dry yet. She alerted us that the upstairs smelled REALLY bad.
Bad smells in our house can be easily attributed to a brother, so I thought nothing of it. When I ran upstairs to shower, I checked on the dryer. Um. I smelled burning rubber. No repair guy necessary. The dryer has been with us since the last one broke a few days after Reg was born (another bad time for a dryer to die, what's your worst washer/dryer dying story?). Translation: it was almost 15 years old.
I laid my hand on it and whispered: You're work here is done.
|There were jeans hanging all over the house.|
Well no, I didn't actually say that. I believe I strung together some other choice words and announced in a semi-hysterical huff to the household that our dryer bit the dust.
While the girls decorated their cookies, I dabbed the sweat from my brow and looked at the Sears Outlet (now called something else) on my laptop. It's less than a mile from our house.
"Hello. What's the biggest gas dryer you sell?"
$1,000 later, Coach said those words every woman dreams of: Merry Christmas, here's your new dryer.
Today I wrapped gifts. Baked desserts that I can freeze. I'm positioning myself to handle the laundry storm come Tuesday.
We paid to have the dryer delivered. Extra to have it hauled up the stairs and have the old one hauled away. Who are we? In the olden days when we were more prone to rub two coins together (when we could find 2 coins), we would've been more likely to do our best Beverly Hillbilly's imitation. This, my friends, is a sign. We're moving up in the world. Or getting older and less stupid.
So since there won't be much congregating on Christmas, will you be wearing 'real clothes'? Or will you not bother?
I'm planning to post a holiday Mary Ann edition tomorrow. A little something for you to enjoy while I claw my way out from under mounds of laundry.