I finished my math homework at about 10:45 last night and decided to go to bed early, opting not to do my chemistry homework so that I could actually get some sleep. I took a shower, brushed my teeth, brushed my hair, etc., and I went to bed. While trying to fall asleep, I started thinking, and my thoughts led me to realize that I would have to work the next day, and I had no idea where my work shirt was.
So I got up out of bed and went to the laundry room to look for my shirt. When I finally found it, it was in the bottom of the dirty clothes hamper with frozen yogurt smears on the front. Needless to say, it had to be washed.
But there was already a load of clothes in the washer, so I started pulling clothes out, one item at a time, and putting them into the dryer. I was very careful deciding what should be dried and what should lay flat to dry, so the process took a lot longer than it really needed to. After sifting through everything one by one, I started the dryer and threw a load of clothes in the washer only to realize that I didn’t know where to put the soap. For some reason our washing machine has a drawer with multiple compartments for soap. Why? Why not just say “pour soap here”? Where am I supposed to put the soap!?
At a loss, I stood in the laundry room, staring at the compartments, trying to decide what to do. Should I wake up my mom? Should I pour in the soap where ever the heck I feel like pouring it and risk ruining the load of laundry? Should I pour the soap in all of the compartments? I didn’t know. I couldn’t decide.
I finally chose to wake up my mom and ask her. I knocked on her bedroom door. “Mom?” I called, and Mark responded with a hefty snore. Assuming they were asleep, I opened the door and peered in. “Mommy?” Another snore. “Mommy.” A little louder this time, but I still didn’t get her attention, so I closed the door and turned back to the laundry room, staring once again at the compartments. Should I just pour the soap directly in the machine? I really had no idea. I considered googling it, but really, what do you google? “Where does the soap go in a washing machine”? Surely google wouldn’t know how to help me.
But my mom would know. I knocked on the door again, not waiting for a response this time. “Mommy, I need your help,” I said urgently. Once again, I was answered with a snore. Awesome. I closed the door and went back to the laundry room where I stared once more at the compartments in the soap drawer. Finally, I chose a compartment, took a deep breath, and quickly poured the soap into the drawer. Then I started the washing machine and went back to bed.
While laying in bed trying to go to sleep, I started thinking, and I realized that I had to pee. There I was, laying in bed, debating whether or not I really had to pee, or if I just wanted to go to sleep. Thinking about having to pee, though, made me really really have to pee. I finally gave up and just went to the bathroom. Then I went back to bed.
After laying back in bed, I started thinking again, this time about laundry rather than bodily functions.At first, I was proud of myself for running a load of laundry all on my own, without any help from my mother. I mean, I ran the dryer. I never run the dryer, because I’m terrified of cleaning the lint screen!
And then I really thought about it…
I didn’t clean the lint screen. But was it really such a big deal? Maybe just this one time would be ok. After all, how flammable could lint really be?
I had to clean the lint screen.
So I got up out of bed once more and stumbled back to the laundry room to clean the lint screen, basically my worst nightmare ever. I pulled the screen out of the dryer and held it for a while, debating whether or not I really wanted to clean it. Lint. Gross. I stared at the lint, horrified at the thought of touching it, but also horrified at the thought of burning the house down the first time I ever attempted to do laundry. And since my parents’ bedroom is closest to the laundry room, they would be the first to catch fire in their sleep. They would most likely not be proud of me doing my own laundry if they were on fire. Even if there was a possibility that they would still be proud, I was hoping not to find out.
So I did it. I cleaned the lint screen. I took my hand to the screen and touched the lint. It was disgusting and horrifying and just as terrible as I remember it being, but I did it. And then I went back to bed.
When I finally lay down in bed once more, I started thinking. I thought about the homework I still hadn’t finished. I thought about the clothes I may have put in the dryer that shouldn’t have been put in the dryer. I thought about how much I wish my mom had woken up so that I would have had help doing the laundry. I thought about the lint.
And with all these thoughts flowing through my mind, I cried. I cried and I prayed, and I thanked God for giving me the strength to clean the lint screen, and I asked him to maybe figure out a way that I’d never have to clean the lint screen again.
I finally drifted to sleep around 12:45, stressed and exhausted and emotionally spent.
So much for going to bed early.