This summer I have become the self appointed washer woman to the masses at the lake.  Granted, the majority of those said “masses” are my own offspring and I would be doing their laundry regardless.  Anyway, I’ve found some interesting things in the washer and dryer as a result.

Last week, I was in a rush to get back up to the lake and was waiting on a load of jeans to dry.  Have I mentioned before the unreliability of my dryer?  I am convinced it is possesed.  No, truly.  Some days, it works great, drying as it should.  Some days it doesn’t work at all, taking 3+ hours to complete a single load.  Some days it dries and then doesn’t and then dries again.  Let me tell you, what I need in my life is another tempermental, cantakerous thing. 

So, there I was waiting on some jeans.  I opened the dryer to check  on the progress before I left for some errands.  Upon opening the door, a rusty screw fell out.  I was amused if not surprised; there were several pairs of pants that belonged to my father and a thing like a screw was certainly an expected item to find there.  The screw was followed by a small piece of paper and a candy wrapper.  I pulled more pants out, and more small pieces of paper shook loose.  As I was collecting those, I came across a small piece of blue vinyl – something I was sure my dad had stashed to repair something or other.  But the paper!  It was everywhere!  At first I thought it was reciepts, but there were too many and all of the same size and color.  I coudln’t figure it out for the life of me.

Jac was entertaining Ellie upstairs and asked me what I was laughing about.  I showed him the contents of my overflowing hands.

“It’s like a notebook got washed or something!”

“That was my notebook.”

Whoops.

Sure enough, his moleskin pocket notebook had been through the wash and dry cycle.  It was very clean if not a little worse for wear.

We had a good laugh and captured the moment for posterity.  I would’ve felt bad about the destruction of this item of his except for a long standing rule which Jac imposed on ME to keep me from such acts of stupidity.

“He who washes must check the pockets.” 

(Do you agree with me that it should be the wearer not the washer?  Please, let me know.  I am still lobbying to have this law changed.) 

And who, you ask, was the washer that load?

That’s right.  The owner of the notebook.