Clean Clothes
I loaded the Subaru, buttoned up our north shore home, and headed south. We planned to make several stops to visit family and friends. Since all were in the deep south, we wanted to visit before the weather got hot. Our first stop was Gulf Shores, Alabama. Melissa and I had spent several days with her parents on the gulf coast.
Before heading out the following morning on the next leg of our trip, we decided to use the laundry room at their condominium. After loading the washing machine, adding the detergent, inserting our quarters, and starting the washer, we returned to Melissa’s parent’s place.
Thirty-five minutes later, my alarm sounded. So, we returned to the laundry room to move the clothes from the washing machine to the dryer.
The washers were located along the north wall. I pulled our clean clothes from the machine and handed them to Melissa. She tossed them into a dryer on the south wall, across the room, with her back to the entrance door.
I intentionally left one item in the tub. Melissa said something. Unfortunately, I was too busy plotting to hear what she said.
“I’m leaving one of your socks in the washer on purpose.” I teased.
“You better not,” she said as she looked through the clothes in the dryer. Melissa was double-checking to ensure no items that couldn’t be dried had been accidentally thrown in the dryer.
I took the last item from the washer. I positioned the garment over my head while she had her back toward me. When I turned around to surprise her, I was quite surprised myself! A man was just outside the door looking directly into the laundry room. It was one of those awkward situations when eye contact was already made for just a split second. However, it seemed to last an eternity. Slightly more than embarrassed, I quickly pulled her un-
derpants off my head. But, unfortunately, it was too late. As they say, I got caught with my hand in the cookie jar. To make matters worse, the man saw me quickly pulling the ladies’ underwear off my head, trying not to get caught. I was undoubtedly double-busted; first, he clearly saw what I did, and then he caught me trying to undo my mischievous act to hide my tracks. The man rapidly turned and rushed away. I think he was as embarrassed catching me as I was being caught.
I started laughing. Melissa stood up, asking, “What did you just do?” But I was laughing too hard to tell her. Finally, I recomposed myself and explained. My wife just shook her head. “You’re a dork. Didn’t you hear me say someone was coming down the hall?”
We put our quarters in the machine, adjusted
Countdown to Turkey Season
Sitting on the porch drinking coffee just before dawn yesterday, I heard a noise behind the house. The morning was calm with just a bit of the remaining spring chill in the air. I stopped to listen and heard it again. It was the unmistakable gobble of a tom turkey. There are turkeys in my back yard and my season does not start for another week. There is something just not right about that, but it would be too easy to walk up the hill and bag a turkey. It is more the hunt than the actual getting the bird.
Preparation for the big opening day goes on for more than a week. Not only does turkey hunting require a lot of “stuff” but it takes a good week to find all the safe places I put everything. Some days, I think I could hide my own Easter eggs. I need decoys, which are fairly easy to find. They look down from their lofty perch in the garage where they have been watching people come and go since last spring. It drives my wife crazy to have a row of turkeys in public view, but they are safe and out of the way. The blind is by the freezer. I can remember that because it is rather large and cumbersome, even folded and bagged. It gets in the way every time I try to close the freezer door. I could move the blind, or the freezer to avoid this problem, but there is only another week to put up with it. The shotgun is where it is supposed to be but the shells are another story. They are always stored away from the other shells so they are not mistakenly used at a trap shoot. They would work at a trap shoot but are about five times the cost and power of trap loads. Along with making a person poor, they would definitely make one sore as they have a much stronger re-coil than trap loads. Turkey calls are stored in
various places. Slate and box calls are naturally in the living room. A person can practice calling while watching television in a comfortable chair. They can only be used here a few minutes each day as other people in the room get quite irritable in a short amount of time. It also drives the dog crazy. Diaphragm calls are kept on the sun visor of the truck. Driving is the perfect time to practice with a mouth call. It does not require hands to practice. I have gotten strange looks from people while at stop lights, when they hear me clucking and squawking. One lady who was stopped next to me, apparently thinking I was dangerous, ran a red light to get away from the strange noises. At the rate I am going, I should have all the required turkey hunting “stuff” collected well before opening day. There are always a few last-minute details with which to be dealt. I always have lost the chalk for the box call, but it is easy enough to steal a piece of sidewalk chalk from the grandkids toy box. By four o’clock in the morning of opening day, if a person does not have what they need and cannot improvise in their sleep deprived state, it is best to do without. I would recommend against waking up a sleeping wife to find your lucky turkey hat. There is a fine line between concern and attempted murder. Do not cross this line. It will be great to get back out on a crisp clear morning to match wits with the wily old gobblers. My wife will also appreciate the few weeks all the hunting equipment is in the woods instead of strung around the house.
(Just the Other Day cont’d on the heat setting, then started the dryer. I was still laughing as we returned to Melissa’s folk’s place, where I sat down to write.
Forty-five minutes later, my alarm sounded.
“The dryer should be done,” I said. “Do you want to go with me to get our clothes?” Melissa said she was not going with me.
I can’t remember if I mentioned to Melissa that the man in the laundry room doorway was a good friend of her parents. So he knew who we were. Although she said she just didn’t want to go, I’m not sure she was ready to be publicly seen with me yet.
Melissa decided to go
with me after all. So, either she really loved me and wanted to help with the laundry, or, more likely, she felt it necessary to go along to keep me out of trouble.
Well, I learned a valuable lesson that day: I won’t be putting her unmentionables on my head in a public laundry
facility again, at least not until I’ve checked to ensure the coast is clear.
When all was said and done, we had clean clothes to start the next leg of our journey. We got in the car, giving two toots on the horns as we pulled away.
Life is good!
