A Feather Christmas to Me

My husband comes to me today and says, “I need my Levis washed.”

“I did all of the wash yesterday.”

“But, I want them washed so I can wear them this afternoon.”

Sigh.

I looked around to see what else I add to the load to be energy efficient — both with my energy and with the washer/dryer.  I spied the coat that I wore 2 years ago when I tripped and did a face plant on the asphalt road when I was power walking at 5:30 a.m. (where I smashed my nose, cracked some teeth, and broke my elbow).  I hadn’t washed out the blood from my coat.  At the time, I had a few other minor details on my mind.

I was trying to ignore the coat even though I passed by it every time I went out the back door.  I don’t connect pleasant memories with it.  However, I decided its time had finally come.  Into the washer it went.

When the washer stopped and I opened it up to put the load in the dryer, I was horrified!  My coat was a down filled coat (with heavy emphasis on WAS).  Granted, it was an old coat, but I expected the feathers to stay INSIDE it while it washed.  Silly me.

There were tons of gray and black feathers (must have come from the black goose of the family) all over the inside of the washer.  They clung to the coat and the Levis.  A black grime coated the washer.

I tried to wipe the feathers out of the washer.  Didn’t get many. I tried to pluck them off the clothing.  Didn’t get many.  I decided the only way to get them off the clothes was to put them in the dryer.  Dry feathers would be easier to pick off.

Dry feathers are floofy feathers.  Floofy feathers floof all over the place.  They flit here.  They flit there.  They hide behind Christmas ornaments on the tree.  They snicker from the chandelier.  They hide in the drawer where I keep my measuring cups.  They are everywhere.  E. V. E. R. Y. W. H. E. R. E.   I think I’ll tell the company that is coming for supper tonight that it is the new Martha Stewart look in Country Living.

When my husband put on his Levis, he pulled a big wad of feathers out of a pocket.  I demanded that he go outside to clean out the others.  I think we’ll be battling feathers for the next five years.

I think I’ll go eat some bon bons and read a Harlequin romance.