Last week I ho hummed down the stairs joyfully to wash my whites- only to find the washing machine inoperable. As a 17 year veteran it finally succumbed to its war wounds and decided to kick the bucket. Alas for me, for I had no white clothing. In my extra wallowing time I wrote the following poem about First World Problems:
When you want to wash your clothes and the machine will not clean,
You must be like the Indians and try to be more lean,
Not only is it more fun to wash in a river or stream,
but you feel good knowing that you are being environmentally green,
When all else fails and you need to blow off steam,
Try all you can to be friendly and avoid being mean,
Sooner or later you'll have clothes to wear, whether or not they are clean.
I ended up with the wearing of clothes that were not clean, and compensating for it by adding in extra cologne. The cologne does a good job of masking the scent but is less effective against the stains. (I think I put on enough cologne to produce some stains as well...) To cover up the grease spots on my white shirt (from cooking bacon in bed- see last post) I decided to make the whole shirt polka-dotted. To match the color exactly I sprinkled grease on my shirt sleeves, collar, and chest. I was actually quite impressed with how it all looked, but it did require that I put on more 'Fierce' to compensate for the new-found smell of bacon emanating from from neck. (Can anyone name the maker of 'Fierce'?) So there I was, walking through the hall smelling like an ferocious pig but looking like a cheetah when I passed the heating vent. Immediately my entire shirt blew up in greasy flames and necessitated an entire evacuation of the... shirt. The only thing more embarrassing then having your shirt tucked into your underwear is having your shirt burn off your body as you pass a vent. Whoo boy. Next time I'm just going to follow the advice of the aforementioned poem and wash my white clothes in a stream.