an unfortunate incident

In what can only be called a colossally horrific earth-shaking incident, my Thursday post was eaten by Blogger. What's that? You hadn't noticed?

Well, I guess I'd have to explain to you how much I detest re-doing lost work, for you to understand the current environmentally devastated condition...of my brain. Still in shock, I'm clinging to the thread of a promise from the Blogger higher-ups that they are working feverishly, day and night, into the wee morning hours, to find and restore my lost content, which I imagine to be in the stomach of the Internet, which is slowly digesting it. Oh, my poor little post! It hardly had a chance.

In the mean time, I did my laundry. I was actually very excited to wake up this morning, knowing that I was on my way to the laundromat, a place of never-ending curiosity to me. How could a place where perfect strangers willingly throw their underwear around in front of each other not be of interest to someone?

Plate-juggling

A woman and a man walked in with several big bags of clothes. My attention was drawn from my library book when she suddenly said commandingly, "Sit down! Sit!" I know people can be particular about how they wash their clothes, but what could the guy have done to warrant that? Then I saw the long-haired chihuahua sitting in her basket. Can't argue with the efficiency of getting all your washing done at once. (Don't worry, no animals had their spots removed–they were actually very nice, non-animal-abuser, types). 

I don't want to brag, but I was faster folding my clothes than the two guys folding next to me. But to be fair, they were probably folding six months worth of clothing. And one of them was folding each pair of underwear with careful precision. I still feel liberated by the realization that I don't have to fold my clothes just like my mother does. Also, I can have sweets after 8pm. Actually, I wouldn't put that past my mother, either. 

I'm not sure if it's a testament to my sadly lacking social life or my notably domestic leanings, but I really look forward to cleaning day. I love organizing, setting straight, and dusting off around the apartment–makes me feel like I'm doing something important and real. I only wish I knew how to keep water from leaking out of my tub, through the wall, and underneath my kitchen sink.

I did make a Honey Do list and posted it on my refrigerator to make myself feel better. I figure, I can just pretend I have a husband who never gets around to it. If I get bored, we can have imaginary arguments about it. Did I mention I spend a lot of time alone?

I was sprucing up in the tack room at the farm yesterday. Missy came out to help me bring Sam in from the pasture. Rounding the corner into the barn, she looked at Finneas and said, "That's a nice arm, Tash."

OneArmGirl


*Speaking of clothes-folding skill, I think it's high time for another installment of "How Does She Do That," since we're currently averaging, uh, one installment...ever. So send your niggling questions to OneArmGirl@gmail.com, and I will do my best to answer one of them.