Wanton Washer Woman

"How clean do you want it?" 

It's true what they say. Sooner or later, it all comes out in the wash. When the washing machine went kablooey, the SJG transformed into Wanton Washer Woman. When faced with adversity -- in this instance, a sudser on the fritz -- I got reckless with the Woolite. A downstairs shower with a detachable nozzle set off something wild in me. Dirty clothes meant for the Maytag, clothes that had misbehaved during the work week, got doused with a capful of gentle detergent, overly spritzed with water, wrung out, pioneer-style, and shlepped to the dryer, drip-drip-dripping all the way, making dangerous puddles that someone could slip on and God forbid break a bone. In the end, the hubby who fixes stuff had a serious come to Moses moment with the Maytag. Once again, he performed his expletive-laden, domestic wizardry, and the washing machine did what it was told to do. Well, I hope you've enjoyed our Sunday soap opera. I know I feel cleansed. But please, let us never speak of this again.