As I Recall

. . . our laundry room at 722 was visited occasionally by mice. True. But that's not what this is about.

My washer was olive green, sort of, and the dryer white. The 1970s and 80s featured fashionable colors for appliances. Yellow I couldn't abide, but I kind of liked the olive green, so I bought it, but I'm glad that era has gone its way.

That washer I bought new, and it lasted at least 15 years, by the way. Well used with seven children. I left it in the house when we sold it--tired of the color, wanting new for our new house. The one I have now has come through the 19 years so far in this house, and I am counting. I hope it keeps on a'going.

But here is what I wanted to write about.

Imagine the laundry with seven children. It began to overwhelm me, so I had a smart idea. On the lid of the green washer I taped a schedule. Each of my children--those old enough to do their own laundry--had a day assigned in which to do just that. I would help them, of course, if they needed help. I am the mom, after all.

That schedule was ordered, wise, well thought out, and pretty much ignored. Mostly they waited until Saturday, well, mostly till Sunday, and then there was usually quite a scramble to see who could get the load in first. The needed pants or white shirt or blouse for church. Poor Lola, as the only girl on the schedule, she may have been muscled out if she waited till Sunday.

And then the plea (read yelling, demanding) for whoever had clothes in the washer to get them out, now, and into the dryer.

That's how I remember it.