Walking, talking, and folding

About the only times I don’t walk in the morning are when we’re out of town, when I need to prepare breakfast for house guests, and when it’s raining heavily.

This morning, it was  raining heavily.  As in, I awoke to raging thunder and lightning and a steady downpour.  I watched the lightning flash through the bedroom.  I listened to the thunder boom-boom-BOOMing continuously.  I looked out the window and saw that it was much more than a drizzle, so I gave myself 20 extra minutes and then got up and showered without having walked.  The whole experience was quite odd and distasteful.

I do so cherish my morning walk!

I other news, I think I should get some kind of commendation for “Most Time Spent on the Phone for Non-Social Calls.”  It seems like I have dealt with an awful lot of things that need someone else’s attention this week.  Right now, I can’t even remember the order of all of them, but here are the high points.

Andrew’s phone – the new card came but wouldn’t work.  Techno Mama had to figure out why not and what to do about it.  Turns out it wasn’t activated, so I talked with AT&T to deal with that.

The Internet – why is Al never around when it doesn’t work?  That’s kind of like the heat and air guy who will install your new unit but who won’t service it.  Our internet gave up the ghost, so I became intimately acquainted with ALL the arms and legs of the several flow charts that drive the logic of CenturyLink’s automated customer service system.  Now, I’m posting to my blog, so it works.

We opted to rent a trash can, and that was a relatively short and painless call.  Our new (to us) can is huge and a quite lovely shade of blue.

I called to scheduled the next phase of the work on Jessica’s bathroom ceiling.

I called to arrange to have Reno’s brakes serviced.  BTW, be it known that, in order for Llamas to repeatedly over a several-week time period deliver sub sandwiches “so fast you’ll freak,” they must both stop and start their vehicles very frequently and with great rapidity and intensity.  When utilizing a family car for this function, so doing will result in said family car’s brake light remaining continually in attention-getting red “on” condition, and greater than normal pressure on the brake pedal will be required to stop the vehicle.  The Pelican surmises that in the future, she should encourage any resident Llamas to either drive their own cars for freakingly fast sandwich deliveries, or – somewhat akin to a vacation rental agreement – pay a service deposit, to be refunded when no service is required.

I don’t really mind getting Reno’s brakes serviced.  I will be doing so one morning next week.  The only thing I really mind is that the time of this particular brake repair appointment coincides inconveniently with the effects of My Friend Bumetanide, and as best I can tell, there doesn’t seem to be a public restroom in that particular shop.  Given the appearance of some mechanics – although noting that we pay them to repair cars, not to look dashing – perhaps that is a good thing.

I seem to be in “get ‘er done” mode these days.  I like that mode.  Andrew flows well in that mode, too, so we are both getting things done that have needed to be done for a while.  He detailed the inside of the Durango today.  Don’t tell him that I hadn’t really noticed anything in the Durango that appeared to need any attention, but he, of his own volition, spent the better part of two hours thoroughly cleaning it, while sweating in the sun and listening to Andrew Peterson.  A mom surely can’t complain about that!

While Andrew cleaned the clean car, I tackled what I had assumed was going to be an impossible task – dealing with Jo’s clothes.

I have probably mentioned that Jo has a LOT of clothes.  And that he probably didn’t take very many of them with him.  Which means that the majority of them are still here. . . and NO ONE knows if they are clean or dirty.  I chose to assume that the dress pants and shirts hanging (un-ironed, by my choice) in his closet are clean.  Therefore, I left them all hanging there.  If and when he wants me to ship any of them to him, I will gladly do so, but since they would all get completely wrinkled in transit, I’m not about to iron them.  Llamas can do that for themselves.

As to the clothes on the bed, in the baskets, on the floor, and in other similar locations, I had Andrew load them up – it required three large baskets, and they were overflowing –  and haul them to the laundry room.  Yes, I did wash and dry them all over again.  Hey, judge not, that you be not judged!!!  What you do with YOUR Llama’s clothing of unknown cleanliness is YOUR business.  I had designs on these clothes and I did not want to mix and match clean with dirty when I stored them.

Of course, the washing and drying is no big deal; machines do that.  It’s the folding that can drive a person of normal intelligence to the edge of insanity.  I folded them all.  Not only did I fold them all, I folded them into neat piles, and then (again because of the designs I had) I stacked them all with their like members and labeled the stacks, using wordings like, “Jeans,” “Holey Jeans,” Colored Undershirts,” and the like.  My goal was to put back into his drawers only one week’s worth of summer clothes and one week’s worth of winter clothes AND to pack everything else away in such a manner that if he called, texted, chatted, or emailed me a request for some subset of his more than ample wardrobe, I could easily and with minimal stress put my hand on the desired article(s).

The entire dining room table – plus three dining room chairs – was covered with stacks of clothing approximately a foot deep.  Some of the stacks were taller.  I should have taken a picture of all those neatly labeled stacks!  Just for grins, I will share SOME of the quantities we’re talking.

Dress socks – 3 pairs

White socks, ankle – 9 pairs

White socks, crew – 8 pairs

White socks, individual, ankle or crew, unmatchable to each other or to any other socks in the house – 17 (sizes variable)

AIM T-shirts, wearable – 9, in three different sizes

AIM T-shirts, holey – 2

Other T-shirts, wearable – 16

Other short-sleeved shirts, knit, casual – 2

Short-sleeved collared shirts – 3

Note that none of the above shirts are B-cazh and all of them are short-sleeved.  This comes to a total of 30 wearable short-sleeved shirts, none of which can be worn to class at college.  Maybe that’s why he didn’t take them. . .

Furthermore, note that before I unceremoniously dumped all the mismatched ones into our huge, lovely blue trash can, the young man was technically in possession of some 51 individual white socks, all of which he cannot – or at least ought not – wear to class.

I will spare our loyal readers the six pairs of jeans, six pairs of holey jeans, and three different sizes (!!!) of certain other essential items of apparel.  The whole thing was quite the logistical nightmare puzzle, but I did eventually start hauling a small subset of the loot back up to his drawers.  Imagine, then, my horror, when upon opening said drawers, they were found to be FULL OF CLEAN CLOTHES!

Pelicans are nothing if not determined, so I pressed on, hauling the dresser contents back down to the dining room, folding them, and, in the spirit of solving an algebraic equation, combining like terms.  Then, FINALLY, I was able to put MY idea of an appropriate amount of clothing NEATLY into the Llama’s stall and close the door behind me.

The rest of the bounty is now boxed and neatly filed in the playroom under “J” for “Josiah’s clothes.”  I feel successful.


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