When my husband retired, he took over the washing and drying of our clothes.
This was a good fit.
He doesn’t rush through mundane tasks — resentful of the time it takes to satisfactorily complete them — like I do.
And he consistently demonstrates significant attention to details. Not something I ever do.
For instance:
Iris, you left the light on in your closet again. (Geez)
Iris, I saw you have a new ding on your car — eight inches below the window on the passenger side. Do you have any idea where that came from? (No)
Iris, you overwatered the plant you took home from the Temple’s dinner last month. (So, what else is new?)
Iris, I know you want to look good at your AEPhi college reunion, but wearing shoes with 4 inch heels? You’re going to break your leg. (It will be worth it.)
On the other hand, when my friends pipe in with suggestions, I am appreciative and listen with an open mind.
Iris, I know you like to wear panty hose to Shabbat services, but really? They are so passe. Go bare legged.
Iris, remember what you wore to our last birthday luncheon? It wasn’t REALLY shabby chic. Kinda more rumpled and discombobulated.
Iris, you’re thinking of cutting your hair and going gray before your granddaughter’s Bat Mitzvah? Are you crazy?
I realize that quite a bit of my waking bandwidth is spent mulling over suggestions and comments from my husband and my friends. It’s my habit to look for others opinions when reaching an impasse.
So it’s been a long time since I did wash. Yesterday, when I went to throw in a load of whites, I noticed a section of the washing machine blocked off with ugly black masking tape. It was the part that dispenses bleach directly into the washing tub. That’s when I realized how old our washing machine was.
Maybe it was time to look for a new one.
I broached the subject of a replacement to my husband.
“Nah,’’ he replied. “I can work around what I taped. No big deal.”
I broached the subject to my friends.
“Go for it,” they fired back. “So many cool, new features on washing machines today.”
Nevertheless, I started only half-heartedly looking for sales on washing machines.
I asked a few friends for recommendations.
And I read about “exciting” new features every washer should have. Seriously? “Exciting”??????
Here’s a few excerpts on what I found:
It’s a dual bin washer and dryer where you can actually wash a load of whites and a load of colors in two separate loads, but at the same time. (WOW! Absolutely riveting!)
It’s an “Emergency-Door Washer” which allows you to add left behind garments to your already started washers through a small, “second chance” door, keeping you from having to run an additional wash cycle. (OMG! Couldn’t possibly live without this one!)
“There is nothing worse than tossing in a load of dirty, grimy, stained clothing into your washer, only for it to come out looking just as bad as it did when you started your washer.” Seriously, do these advertising people listen to the worldwide news???? I can think of a few things worse than grimy clothes — starting with, but not ending with, the massacre on October 7…
The whole process was becoming overwhelming.
But looking back, it wasn’t the many features that delayed me from buying a new washer — nor the lack of sales — nor my husband’s feedback that he could just “make do.”
It is simply this:
I’m 76 years old.
If I buy another washing machine, it will probably be the last washing machine I’ll ever buy.
And I simply am not yet able to wrap my arms around that startling fact.
Keep Preserving Your Bloom,
Iris
