Near Death Experience
2/4/2018
Well, I nearly died last Sunday. And, after a few days, I have calmed down enough to put the trauma down onto (virtual) paper.
So, there we were, at the Bs; doing laundry while watching the Seahawks miss. field. goal. after. field. goal.
Mr. Sears Home Service swears he’ll get the washing machine fixed when he comes out for THE SEVENTH TIME next week. So we had a couple loads to do until then.
I was chowing down on some nachos when my Beloved deposited Basket O’ Clean Laundry #1 at my feet. Not really sure why it’s right there; perhaps she thought I needed a footrest. Whatever the reason, I bravely decide to continue on my nachos. And that is when I nearly died.
....
For some reason, J decides to hop up, boldly stride over to MY laundry basket and BRAZENLY grabs a handful of Hardy Laundry.
Just like that! Nary a By Your Leave Good, Sir; just grabs another family’s (another MAN’s) clothing.
Who does that?!? Seriously, who does that?Maybe it’s an Iberian Peninsula thing. You could ask around.
Regardless, this isn’t something we do in America.
“You need to fold them right away or they’ll get wrinkles, Mr. Hardy!”
J was so intent on her mission to Kill Her Guest that she didn’t notice I was sitting there frozen, nacho halfway to my mouth.
‘Cause I sure wasn’t thinking about wrinkles. No, that wasn’t my utmost concern. What was foremost in panicking brain cells was:
My Bright Red Extra Sexy underwear; seen only by Wendi and God (the former very much appreciating them but the Latter’s opinion is...well, UKKNOWN), is SOMEWHERE IN THAT BASKET!! It could be in that pile that J just grabbed! She might; in her delightfully clueless way, be about hold up my clean but very naughty unmentionable.
“Oh, Mr. Hardy! What’s this? Is there something wrong...Is this supposed to....? Ooooh...Oh my!
L would look at said undies for two seconds, swivel his eyes back to the TV and Never Look Me in The Eyes Again.
Xander would similarly get VERY interested in whatever was on the tube.
And Wendi would start laughing. Cackling!
And, right there in the B Living Room, I would die.
Just PLOP! DEAD, right there.
“Local former teacher is DEAD for unknown reasons. Dumb-ass Foreign Teacher has NO idea for cause of death.”
....
All these thoughts took about 1 second to race around the brain before I sprang into action.
“My..clothes! Those mine!”
Despite my eloquence, J started folding. Just like that! No thought for proprietary! What kind of a monster would do that?
After about 3 seconds of attempting to make her stop using only the Power of My Mind(!), I decided to start on the World’s Fastest Folding Job on the remaining items in the basket.
The next minute-minute and a half’s results were not my best laundry-related work but they certainly were the fastest. I would fold 5 or 10 ten things while completely focusing on J’s hand as it reached for another bit of clothing. As I said, not my best work.
(Fold, fold, fold) Janet plucks out....Xander’s pants!
(Fold, fold, fold) .......One of my...tee-shirts!
(Fold, fold, fold)...Looks like...socks!
Finally, 2/3 the way to the bottom: triumph! Tighty Redies were found!
By me.
Into my More Cowbell shirt it went. And then it was onto the remaining 1/3 at a much leisurely pace.
And breathing.
One final coda was finding some of Wendi’s tawdry-wears at the bottom of the basket. Those also got slipped into the stack.
The rest of the game was good; though the outcome was a disappointment. The Seahawks losing a very exciting game, Wendi and Xander heading home by halftime and me guarding that %#¥€! basket as if my life depended on it.
Which it kinda did.
So that’s the story of my (most recent) near-death experience.
Let this cautionary tale teach you Life’s Most Important Lesson: friends don’t fold friends laundry.
Gotta go to work now.