Things Are Not Always What They Seem
A few weeks ago I wrote a blog entry about my broken washing machine and how it gave me a little taste of history (February 17, 2009). I am now doing laundry with my brand-new whoop-de-do machine that is so computerized, it weighs the clothes before pouring in the water. Fancy indeed, but there are still some bugs to be worked out. My futuristic washing machine still can't tell when a red sock has been accidentally mixed in with the whites, so I now have some lovely pink blouses! But this incident has triggered an interesting memory from my past.
Years ago, when I lived in an apartment house in Santa Monica, I took my dirty clothes one afternoon to the building's laundry room. The washer was available, but the dryer was going. I loaded the machine, started it and left. At my desk, I set a timer to go off after thirty minutes, as the rule of the laundry room was any clothes left in a machine could be lifted out by the next person needing the machines (I was writing "Hounds and Jackals" at the time and I often got so involved in my work that I forgot to look at the clock). At the end of the half-hour, I went downstairs to find my laundry done, but the dryer was still filled with someone else's clothes. The cycle had ended, the clothes were dry, so I lifted them out and carefully placed them on top of the machine.
As I was removing my neighbor's clothes (I did not know her as I was new to the building) I noticed that she had mixed colors with whites. This might sound petty, but a small judgment entered my head. Her clothes were positively dingy! I knew the owner was a she because of the lingerie, and there wasn't a really white piece in any of it. While my mind should have been on other things (that next pesky chapter, for one), I couldn't help but think that the dinginess of my neighbor's whites was due to many washings of mixed loads (we've all accidentally washed whites with a hidden red sock). My judgment of this person grew. Why didn't she separate her colors? Didn't she care? Hadn't her mother taught her correctly? When I pulled out a blouse made of a popular fabric at that time - a lovely sky blue background with stunning white and yellow daisies - and I saw how "muddy" the whole thing looked, my negative judgment hit the ceiling. A beautiful blouse, ruined.
As I was about to finish, I heard footsteps approaching on the path outside. "I'm emptying the dryer," I called out, not wanting to startle her, and also feeling a little defensive. "I hope you don't mind. Your things were dry."
"Not at all," she called back. "My fault. I got stuck on the phone."
I turned, preparing to smile at her and introduce myself. But instead of seeing my new neighbor step through the door, I saw the long brown muzzle of a German Shepherd. My neighbor's seeing-eye dog.
Image Source: www.smallnotebook.org
