i have a special circle in hell specifically reserved for some household chores.
i hate doing laundry. i so hate doing laundry. it is completely & purposefully inefficient, especially the folding part. yes, looking crisp is essential to my professional ethos, & not smelling like the inside of my running shoe (after it has lived in its box in the sun following a race through the mud & rain [umm... Mel...]) is the general hope when i get dressed. however, i do not like the way this bastard chore wastes my time.
see, i'm the type who settles into her work. & yes, i do work on projects at home after carrying on for OMG-how-many-hours-with-teenagers-? for a living. but i can't just dive right in. i have to sidle into my swivel chair, which, in & of itself is distracting (but i don't get rid of it because it's so damn comfortable), play with a pen or pencil, let my ideas percolate, & then it's off to the races. however. with laundry on the line (*smirk*), my whole "process" gets interrupted, & my "writing" is stunted, & my "art" generally f*cks around by itself without accomplishing anything at all. forty minutes is simply not enough for me to get anything of note done. even if i'm brainstorming, as soon as the time is up, my focus is smashed to pieces, & putting it back together is a bitch.
& yes, i'm getting around to the swears. be patient.
so i've known for the past few days that my laundry basket has needed my attention. i can go for some time without having to do anything because of a wonderful little trick i learned prior to college--if i buy a month's worth of underwear, & have an ample supply of other clothes, then i just won't need to do laundry. i know. that's shamefully lazy, consumerist, blah, blah, blah-flippity-blah blah blah. keep singing the song. do know, however, that my trick does nothing but placate me & prolong the inevitable. i pay a price; once my sartorial supplies are drained, then i have one hell of a pile to take care of. so either way, it sucks. & this morning, i sighed, deciding to finally do the damn laundry.
my day. relatively not so bad. the kids behaved, my lessons were fine, and two of my classes didn't meet (yay, extra "planning" periods!). however, i am tired. i have yet to not be tired since the year started. such is the life of teachers, though, so i [grin &] bear it. afterward, i hightail it out of one place of joy to another, to the Essex MVA to renew my license. i was prepared to wait and pulled Children of the Mind (by orson scott card; you must read this book) out of my purse to read for the duration. an hour and a half (give or take forever) later, i was finally called to the counter. the process was remarkably [& annoyingly] fast. until i went to pay the renewal fee.
my card, & of course it would be my card, froze the system. the lovely woman assisting me clicked all kinds of dialogue boxes on her computer. nothing. nothing. i was tired. i was hungry. i just wanted to go home, play with my dog, eat some dinner, and read in bed. note that i did not say, "i wanted to do my laundry." but i knew it was there, waiting for me. anyway, said lovely woman had to shut down her entire system, including the camera, restart it, go through the information again, verify it, & have me swipe once more. just hedging my bets, i used another card. from a totally different bank. & the system froze. again.
& then a few seconds later, the transaction went through. she handed me the receipt & my new license, & i was on my merry way. again. so hungry. so tired. so beleaguered. just wanting to get shit done & go to bed. upon my arrival home & with cut-throat efficiency, i took toby out, separated the loads, changed into something comfortable, & trod down the steps to the laundry room. put the detergent & clothes into their respective washers. put in the money. pushed the coin slots in. one machine started. the other [with my clothes all junked up with liquid detergent] jammed.
son... of a bitch.
look. is it too much to ask to let a girl who hates the chore get it over with asap? is it punishment for some past sin against the fashion gods, a sin of which i'm ignorant (must have happened in the 80's...)? i can be reasonable. really. i can be responsible & do my duties & not be a bitch about it. but work with me, will you? let me get the job done, have my chicken corn chowder, for which i've now been waiting to make for the better part of TWOf*cking hours...
***
i won't even get started about how i just took a break from this rant about ten minutes ago to take the one load out of the one functioning machine, put that load in the dryer, & put the other load from the other machine in the one that had heretofore been working. i say had. with emphasis. for a reason. now both machines are jammed. & my head explodes...
KABOOZHHHHHH!
*sigh*.
 |
see, i'm the type who settles into her work. & yes, i do work on projects at home after carrying on for OMG-how-many-hours-with-teenagers-? for a living. but i can't just dive right in. i have to sidle into my swivel chair, which, in & of itself is distracting (but i don't get rid of it because it's so damn comfortable), play with a pen or pencil, let my ideas percolate, & then it's off to the races. however. with laundry on the line (*smirk*), my whole "process" gets interrupted, & my "writing" is stunted, & my "art" generally f*cks around by itself without accomplishing anything at all. forty minutes is simply not enough for me to get anything of note done. even if i'm brainstorming, as soon as the time is up, my focus is smashed to pieces, & putting it back together is a bitch.
& yes, i'm getting around to the swears. be patient.
so i've known for the past few days that my laundry basket has needed my attention. i can go for some time without having to do anything because of a wonderful little trick i learned prior to college--if i buy a month's worth of underwear, & have an ample supply of other clothes, then i just won't need to do laundry. i know. that's shamefully lazy, consumerist, blah, blah, blah-flippity-blah blah blah. keep singing the song. do know, however, that my trick does nothing but placate me & prolong the inevitable. i pay a price; once my sartorial supplies are drained, then i have one hell of a pile to take care of. so either way, it sucks. & this morning, i sighed, deciding to finally do the damn laundry.
my day. relatively not so bad. the kids behaved, my lessons were fine, and two of my classes didn't meet (yay, extra "planning" periods!). however, i am tired. i have yet to not be tired since the year started. such is the life of teachers, though, so i [grin &] bear it. afterward, i hightail it out of one place of joy to another, to the Essex MVA to renew my license. i was prepared to wait and pulled Children of the Mind (by orson scott card; you must read this book) out of my purse to read for the duration. an hour and a half (give or take forever) later, i was finally called to the counter. the process was remarkably [& annoyingly] fast. until i went to pay the renewal fee.
my card, & of course it would be my card, froze the system. the lovely woman assisting me clicked all kinds of dialogue boxes on her computer. nothing. nothing. i was tired. i was hungry. i just wanted to go home, play with my dog, eat some dinner, and read in bed. note that i did not say, "i wanted to do my laundry." but i knew it was there, waiting for me. anyway, said lovely woman had to shut down her entire system, including the camera, restart it, go through the information again, verify it, & have me swipe once more. just hedging my bets, i used another card. from a totally different bank. & the system froze. again.
& then a few seconds later, the transaction went through. she handed me the receipt & my new license, & i was on my merry way. again. so hungry. so tired. so beleaguered. just wanting to get shit done & go to bed. upon my arrival home & with cut-throat efficiency, i took toby out, separated the loads, changed into something comfortable, & trod down the steps to the laundry room. put the detergent & clothes into their respective washers. put in the money. pushed the coin slots in. one machine started. the other [with my clothes all junked up with liquid detergent] jammed.
son... of a bitch.
look. is it too much to ask to let a girl who hates the chore get it over with asap? is it punishment for some past sin against the fashion gods, a sin of which i'm ignorant (must have happened in the 80's...)? i can be reasonable. really. i can be responsible & do my duties & not be a bitch about it. but work with me, will you? let me get the job done, have my chicken corn chowder, for which i've now been waiting to make for the better part of TWO
***
i won't even get started about how i just took a break from this rant about ten minutes ago to take the one load out of the one functioning machine, put that load in the dryer, & put the other load from the other machine in the one that had heretofore been working. i say had. with emphasis. for a reason. now both machines are jammed. & my head explodes...
KABOOZHHHHHH!
*sigh*.
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