Loading up the washing machine, and my mind is sprawling around in several destinations far from this cramped room. I spritz my clothes- no, actually I drench them with that spray- the kind that's supposed to work miracles on any stain before the affect fabric even goes in the washer. This was my favorite shirt. My favorite shirt. I'm just not thinking today, am I?
The cotton feels good on my fingers, even though I'm stuffing it roughly into the machine. And all the towels...I didn't learn it until I'd moved out, but Mom was right: washing towels and clothes in the same load led to an outright ungodly amount of lint stuck in everything. I pause. Do I really want to do two separate loads?
Yeah, why not? Water begins to fill up, and I'm dousing it with that lovely detergent that smells so good and pure.
I sit down opposite the machine and just stare at it for a while. It rumbles pleasantly, numbly, and my mind drifts. What a nice sound, surely one could just meditate with it, it was constant and so low, maybe it could even help me sleep-
My eyes flicker open; I've only let my mind wander a few minutes, but it's still a queer sensation. The machine's still rumbling. Shouldn't it be finishing soon? It's just rumbling along as if there are no cares in the world, nothing but my dirty clothes. I move to the dryer, hopping on top of it and wiggling impatiently. The washer booms once, twice- my bad habit of using too much detergent catching up with me yet again.
Then it's quiet. The soft rush of the rinse cycle. Another few minutes and I'll have to move again. A gurgle.
Ho hum. Sounds done. I hop down and lift up the top of the machine. Wring the clothes out, eye them carefully. The smile that spreads across my face would put a Cheshire Cat to shame. The stain remover actually worked! Still wasn't worth the seven bucks, but hey, can I really complain when the results are so much better than I expected?
I toss in the towels, start up the wash again. The clothes go in the dryer, timer set to 40 minutes. I suppose I'll start taking out the old carpet and installing that lovely tile that's waiting patiently in the living room.
Would it be too much to hope that the blood hasn't seeped into the floorboards yet?