“Honey, I need to pay the laundry lady. She wants $1,000 per load.”
“Okay, babe.” He reached deep into his pocket keeping his eyes glued on the Golf Channel (401 on Dish) and didn’t even flinch.
“Oh, she’s kinda old and I think we should tip her twenty percent.”
“Sure… Oh man! Did you see that putt?!”
“No, hon. Missed it.”
I grabbed the wad of cash with my scaled, reddened but uber-clean hand. “Thanks.” And snickered all the way back into the laundry room where I scoured more sopping whites, darks and medium-toned loads. The doo-rag on my head added to the look, I must say.
Hand-washing laundry isn’t the joyous task one might think it to be. You tend to count a lot. Like how many pushes and tugs it takes to perform a proper laundry washing. About 400 for a decent single wash. And the twisting motion? Oy Vey! You must emulate a mechanical washer and agitate, jossle, tug and grind the material on each item in order to get the “stains” out of, let’s say, the poo-poo undies. Bleh. Not me, of course but that’s what the laundry woman told me.
Our washing machine wore out after only 6.5 years of use. At the time we bought it we thought this brand was so cool. You see, it spun a load at 2500 rpm after the rinse cycle. Wowweee! I want that one! Yes, the one that won’t last too many years but will be really fun to watch as all the parts break down around it. We can listen to them as they clank against the floor! Yes, that one! The one we’ll need to call repair man after repair man to fix. Please, honey. Can we? Can we have THAT one!
So, away with that brand–don’t ask lest ye wantz me to go off on a rather loverly country–and back to my favorite and reliable Whirlpool washer. Skwee. I have a new washing machine. Don’t tell Bob. He still thinks we have a laundry maid coming daily for $1000 + tips. I just toss him the remote controller, put a bag of peanut butter cookies on his lap, hand him a bottle of Pelligrino, pocket the cash and we’re good to go.