A NEWLY-ACQUIRED ENTHUSIASM FOR HOUSEKEEPING
Not to belabor the point, but for a very long time Cheryl did more than 100% of everything while I was busy being not busy. I know marriage is ideally not about debts like this, but for sure I need to take on some stuff in order to at least allow her to assist her clients to achieve the cruise vacations of their dreams. And so, in this blissful post-transplant state of mind, I have enthusiastically done just that. Today seemed to be a good example of this brave new world, and it went kinda like this......
After an early wake up call, I let Lucy out, made the coffee, and got the paper. A brief dash downtown to drop off some papers at the attorney's, then back for a quick brekkie. Next, a vigorous hour of Gym followed by a pleasant session over at "our family jeweler" (more on this some other time). Back home for another incredible lunch while Cheryl enjoyed her meeting with Helen and Cindy at Taheri's. We jointly picked up the van from service, then a bit of shopping ensued. An attempt to watch news unfortunately resulted in a short gap caused by an unintended snooze in my chair.
Then the real action started. Although it was dangerously late, I launched into dinner preparation. Out came some pasta and one of my limited repertoire of tossed salads. Delightful dinner banter led naturally to cleanup and dishes.
Now it was my time. Cheryl retired to my recliner to watch Biggest Loser as I began my evening ritual. I luxuriously slipped into something more comfortable, specifically my Danger Men Cooking BBQ apron. Felt good. Slowly, slowly I drew on my bright yellow elbow-length Mr. Clean rubber dish washing gloves. I began to feel......a little naughty. I reached for my headphones and selected the theme from Bolero on the iPod. The persuasive, driving melody relaxed me, putting me in the perfect mood for the task at hand. Starting on the utensils, I felt my hips almost imperceptibly begin to sway, just that tiny bit, y'know?
The first rinsing session was divine, as I tossed back my (lack of ) hair and let out a loud giggle of enjoyment. Scrubbing the cooked-on saucepan gave me chills up and down my spine, and I could no longer contain my feelings. Struggling to maintain, I mentally tried to name every Indy 500 winner since 1939 ( Wilbur Shaw, uh, uh, ...). It was no use, I had gone too far and I had not even cleaned off the top of the range yet. My mind scrambled aimlessly all over the emotional map, and I could swear I heard an imaginary old lady look over from the dining table and tell an imaginary waitress "I'll have what he's having".
It was over more quickly than it had begun, more's the pity. I dutifully cleaned the counters, slid out of my gloves and apron, and collapsed, totally spent, into my chair. Unfortunately, Cherie was still sitting in that chair, and luckily suffered no serious injury. I relocated to the couch and carefully lit up an after-dishes cigarette. As the smoke curled lazily toward the ceiling, I found my self looking forward to my next domestic-god task.
THE LAUNDRY BECKONS FROM AFAR
As a bit of background, well, basically there isn't much background. Flash back to September of 1967. After breakfast at one of the very first Sambo's (Cabrillo Blvd., Santa Barbara), Ruth and Walter Moss stop at a local grocery store with me, the apprehensive and dorky as crap freshman. In her infinite wisdom, my Mom of course realizes that for my entire 18 years she has done every single piece of laundry existing at the Moss household. In order to arm me for the rigors of college life, she purchases a box of Salvo tablets. Reminiscent of that part of The Jerk in which Steve Martin's father explains the difference between s**t and Shinola, Mom carefully describes the clothes-washing process to me in slow, even tones, kinda like you would explain how to go poopie to a two-year-old. I dutifully did a load that first strange and confusing week.
Leap forward 43 years, to this very day. That was roughly the time between that landmark first laundry session and the very next one. I am not making that up. During my storied college adventures, I never again did any clothes washing. I did in fact save up my dirties and schlep them home to L.A . and my dear Mother did the deal. And I didn't have a car (or car magazines!) freshman year per W.V.Moss, as he considered these interests to be potentially distractive to my studies of Mechanical Engineering. I merely substituted other distractions and managed to exit Engineering pretty quickly for the romantic and sensual world of Art.
As you might imagine, the transportation issue made trips home few and far between, so perhaps it was a might too long between laundry loads. One time I even brought my dirties along on Greyhound for a weekend visit to the folks, that's how pathetic it got. And yes, one of my very first "conversations" with Cheryl L. Cook was outside the laundry facility at Carillo Commons, but be assured it only involved her clothes. It wasn't until sometime later that our dainties became forever intertwined, so to speak, as they are to this very day.
Oh, yeah, the current state of the laundry. As an ignorant moron, I begged and pleaded with Cheryl to train me on the prodigious task of washing our clothes. She reluctantly finally acceded and gave me the quick-and-dirty version. This reluctance frightened and confused me, since who in their right mind would not wanna give up such a tedious duty? Turns out she was interested in Quality and Care, and she was largely unconvinced that I could produce results in keeping with her desires. Cooler heads (mine) prevailed, and as I blog on endlessly this very moment, I have a load of darks working away. Ruth would be proud of her sonny boy, and no Salvo tablets for me, either.
THE OTHER CRAP WILL HAFTA WAIT
As you recall, I am completely and utterly spent after dishes, so when this load of clothes finishes drying, I must sadly end this chapter and toddle off to bed. I will tickle your collective fancies (why yes, I certainly can do that from right here. There's an app for that) and promise to delight you in the near future by relating a truly remarkable last weekend. I know it's gonna be difficult to wait, but I know y'all can do it if you really try.
Until then, I remain...
Bob/Irv
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