Manual Labor

January 1 2010
Happy New Year

Our new coach came with a plastic file cabinet full of manuals tucked into file folders, in alphabetical order, no less. My husband is a reader of manuals. He’s already half way through the two-inch thick book that came with the coach. Last night he plopped the instructions for the washing machine and dryer on the table where I was sitting.

Hey, fella! I’m busy heah. I’m playing a video game, so don’t interrupt my losing streak.

Now I wasn’t going to read any damn manual. My mother taught me how to beat my clothes on a rock when I was just a little child. When machines came along, she taught me how not to get my arm caught in the wringer and that was it. I didn’t get caught, but my brother did, which is why he has a dry, but very flat, arm today. But I digress.

Let’s just say I’ve been using washing machines for a long time. They’re pretty much the same – you toss the clothes in, dump in some soap, turn a dial and push a button. Kaboom, clean clothes. Dryers, same thing.

So why did I go out to dinner in a damp sweater last night?

I washed successfully, but the dryer is stacked on top of the washing machine and the dials are impossible to read from my lowly and shrinking height. I just guessed and pushed the button. Ten minutes later, the machine beeped. My wet sweater was now air-fluffed. Wet but fluffy. I tried again and forty minutes later my sweater was ready for really damp ironing.

I’ll cut to the chase here. That dryer has more damn cycles that a pms-ing woman and I never did find the one that simply dries things. So as the time to leave arrived, I pulled out the sweater, which by now was still wet around the collar where the material was thicker. It was kind of cold and icky, but as it turns out, the restaurant was kind of warm, so things worked out after all.

The manuals are still on the table, but it’s New Years Day, and I have a video game to play. My brother-in-law just jumped way past me and my son is closing in. I can’t let this happen, so I guess I’ll read those manuals another day. God knows when I'll get to the microwave one.

Betty