She used to resent laundry day. Fifty years of washing his shirts, stained with sweat and soil; their gym socks reeking of locker room antics; diapers, sheets, tablecloths. Into the basket they went for her to sweat over, wrestle onto the line. And the ironing! Wrinkle-free fabric didn’t exist then. Her friend had help come in once a week to wash. She’d resented that too.
Now they’re gone. There’s no one to wash for. Not even herself. The nurse takes out the soiled things, returns with clean things. They smell of bleach.
This is the day we wash our clothes, so early in the morning.
“That snowstorm has the three of us packed in for a week and I drew Monday: Laundry Day. At least the sun’s out.”
Jim walked to the stream with the dirty clothes of three men. He made two small pools, one to clean in, the other to rinse. An hour later he had them on rocks drying. He noticed a sparkling on several, they all did. He collected fifty gold flakes and saw a small nugget in the stream.
“Get rid of the two helpers for Mr. Sutter’s sawmill, and I could collect enough gold to be a rich man.”
As far as Doris was concerned, every day was "laundry day," complete with my carefully appointed "to-do-list." She also demanded that each and every task be performed to her satisfaction prior to supper being provided.
Tonight though, my glass of Merlot is nicely chilled and my gourmet hamburger, topped with grilled portobello mushrooms, caramelized onions and aged cheddar cheese, is a thing of epicurean delight upon the plate.
It is sheer bliss to enjoy a meal without her shrill and shrewish commands echoing in my ears.
Cleaning the abattoir's industrial meat grinder, however, is now on my docket.
My typical Wednesday routine, laundry day was a good time for reading while I waited. An object flashed, reflecting the light. Sheets snapped on the opposite end of the laundromat. I was oblivious. Finally, that familiar, grating noise interrupted me. Retrieving my laundry, I peered over the door. We made eye contact, I think. Me and the man with the red hockey mask. Holding blood-stained sheets, turned more pink than red. An equally sullied knife sat on a table nearby. I wasn't sure what to do when he waved at me. Couldn't say why, but I think I waved back.
Alatariel: Pelwrath, is the remodel a surprise?
Oct 24, 2021 18:03:58 GMT -6
FoxxGlove: Looks like these Halloween entries are going to be sooooooo close.
Oct 25, 2021 16:20:30 GMT -6
Oct 25, 2021 17:05:24 GMT -6
HDSimplicityy: Tonight I learned that critiquing other peoples' critiques is not a custom in some groups. Is that even true? I did it in school and I think we do that here.
Oct 25, 2021 20:02:22 GMT -6
HDSimplicityy: Im not sure they will enjoy reading chapters of my novel every several weeks with the content.
Oct 25, 2021 20:05:42 GMT -6
Alatariel: I don't think I've ever critiqued someone else's crit
Oct 25, 2021 21:08:46 GMT -6
HDSimplicityy: I mean clarifying your writing
Oct 25, 2021 21:43:06 GMT -6
pelwrath: Day 3 of remodeling, kind of a surprise. She know that not what. Get new electrical covers, put molding back, closet shelves, and start assembling new furniture. Wife is refinishing desk.
Oct 26, 2021 7:34:33 GMT -6
pelwrath: I hope to be less tired and return to scoring tonight.
Oct 26, 2021 8:36:37 GMT -6