got up at 6am and made myself available for a load. It was 10:30 before they assigned me one, and it won't be ready to pickup until 4pm this afternoon in Hebron, KY headed for Blaine, WA. That gives me a few hours to kill today. I have the house to myself; welfy began her first day of work at Rebecca Ruth. I thought about driving downtown around lunchtime to surprise her, but then I remembered, "Duhhh, big truck."
So the plan is to have a couple more cups of tea, maybe a bowl of cereal, and to write a proper final chapter to my Tatham Springs Hotel series with the photos from my recent visit there.
ne of the things that amuses me about cohabitation with a new person is all the teensy differences in housekeeping that occur. There is no right or wrong way, just the way you learned to keep your home from your parents, or from previous cohabitants, or from trial and error on your own. Most of these things I don't give a second thought. One of the consequences of my years spent in the restaurant industry is that I am picky about the kitchen, but not to the point of caring so much that it would come to fisticuffs. The thing which drives me up the wall for some weird reason though, is laundry folding. It doesn't irk me to the point of being angry or demanding, but it bothers me in a manner where I find myself refolding things because it's not to my liking. Take for instance, socks. They way I fold socks is the way I learned it from my mother; you fold the top of one of the socks outside-in over the other and roll it down just past the heel, leaving the foot portion of the sock to dangle. This is the correct and proper way to fold socks, because it is MOM APPROVED.
My ex-wife went to one extreme, completely rolling the entire pair of socks into the elastic portion of the sock. Obviously, this causes undue stress of the elastic portion of the sock, which could result in unwanted sock slippage at an inappropriate moment.
Notice I said ex wife.
Welf goes to the other extreme. She tucks just a small portion of the upper sock outside-in, leaving the foot, heel, and calf of the sock outside of the roll. While this is much better for the sock than my ex wife's ball of destruction, it causes another problem; there's just not enough holding the sock-pair together.
I'm afraid they're going to come apart. It's hard enough not losing one sock in the dryer. Stephen Hawking should be looking for wormholes in the modern dryer; he's more likely to find one and the lint is fun to play with.
Then there's T-shirts. I just fold them in half the long way, then fold them over. Sometimes I tuck the sleeve into the fold, sometimes I don't. Welf does this really tiny fold. If the Rebecca Ruth thing doesn't work out, she's got a bright future at The Gap. Honestly, I don't care how a T-shirt is folded. The compulsion to refold them doesn't come from being opposed to the fold, but because now they don't match the way the rest of my shirts are folded. Got OCD?
an't get enough of them legs! These belong to a new livejournal.friend, just made within the past couple of weeks. Judging from a recent entry she made, stillimage's 17th birthday is later this month, making these jail bait gams. She admits to having a sock obsession (although not the same type from which I apparently suffer), which made for a fun picture.