I think my desire to find order in chaos is what constantly drives me to delude myself into thinking that 'tomorrow' will be better, cleaner, quieter, smoother. But today was yet another reminder that my life was not meant to be clean, quiet, or run smoothly. No, indeed. All my big plans for establishing order, routine, and self sufficiency were cruelly suffocated in the span of less than 45 minutes.
Here's what happened.
1:30 p.m. - Zak finally starts working on his daily school assignments. I have Grace haul their burgeoning laundry hamper into the laundry room so that I can finally teach her how to start and load the machine. (We have had a few hic-ups on the way to starting our laundry routine.) I show her what settings to put the machine on, how to measure the soap, and show her the full line on the machine so as to not over load it. All goes well.
1:45 p.m.- Grandpa emerges from his room and announces that he has stripped his bed and needs all his linens washed. Victor informs him that the washer is busy and that it is going to be a long time before I can get to it. Grandpa says that's fine, there's no hurry. But we know better. Plus when I look over at the pile that he has brought out, I realize that he has stripped the entire bed including the mattress cover. I'm not overly concerned about washing the sheets, I have a clean set that I can put on his bed, but today was not the day I had this planned, and it is nearly impossible to do housekeeping chores in his room when he is there, it's very stressful. So my stress level just rose from around a 4 (not sure it ever drops below this) to about a 6.
1:50 p.m.- Grandpa comes out with more laundry, including the towels that I just put in his room yesterday, and the blanket that he never uses, that I washed just a few weeks ago. And re-emphasizes how important it is that all of these get washed. Stress level moves up to 7.
2:00 p.m. Grandpa emerges with still more laundry, his actual clothes this time, and is more than a little upset that the pile is still on the floor in front of the laundry room. He remarks that his bed doesn't have any covering on it, and Victor emphasizes that just because he decides that it's time for his clothes to be washed doesn't mean they CAN be, that there is already other laundry being washed and that it is going to be much later that his gets done. Grandpa is not happy. Meanwhile, Kit is following me all around, throwing fits because she can't touch everything she wants to touch, or mad because I keep putting her down in order to have my hands free to accomplish things. Kit is not happy. Stress level up to 8 1/2.
2:20: The washer is done. I have Zak transfer the clothes into the dryer, which he does just fine. I bring Grace in to start their second load. After she puts the soap in and gets the water going, I finally take Kit out who has been crying the whole time because I won't let her on Grace's stool, I won't let her have any candy, and because she is just plain tired and past her ability to wait for Mommy any longer. I leave Grace to load the remainder of the clothes and sit down in the rocking chair to nurse Kit. Kit is finally quiet.
2:25 p.m. Grace yells for help from the laundry room. I yell back what does she need help for. She yells back that something happened to the washing machine. I yell back asking what. She yells back "that thingy fell!!!" After several more failed attempts to elicit more detailed information, I get up, haul Kit to the laundry room to find out what's happening. I don't see any "thingy". Victor arrives, and doesn't see any "thingy". Finally, Grace is descriptive enough to draw our attention to the entire wash basin, which has apparently collapsed somehow and is sitting two inches below the rim of the washer where it is supposed to be. I put Kit down, who of course starts crying. Upon closer examination, we see that it is indeed somehow detached from it's proper place, though we have no idea how. The dryer is running, the wash basin is full of clothes and water and soap now. I have Grandpa's pile still sitting in front of the laundry room door. Kit is crying. My washer is clearly broken. There is no chance of accomplishing today what I had hoped. Stress level - exploding!
I start crying. Victor hugs me.
And that is how once again, I was reminded how foolish and futile it is for me to ever think that I might have a handle on anything around here.
But, the washer is still under warranty. They will be coming to fix it tomorrow. The kids at least have one load of clean clothes so no one is out of underwear. And now we have a concrete reason why Grandpa's clothes will not get washed today. Thank goodness I have spare sheets and towels! So I guess, everything will be better tomorrow.
Right?
Here's what happened.
1:30 p.m. - Zak finally starts working on his daily school assignments. I have Grace haul their burgeoning laundry hamper into the laundry room so that I can finally teach her how to start and load the machine. (We have had a few hic-ups on the way to starting our laundry routine.) I show her what settings to put the machine on, how to measure the soap, and show her the full line on the machine so as to not over load it. All goes well.
1:45 p.m.- Grandpa emerges from his room and announces that he has stripped his bed and needs all his linens washed. Victor informs him that the washer is busy and that it is going to be a long time before I can get to it. Grandpa says that's fine, there's no hurry. But we know better. Plus when I look over at the pile that he has brought out, I realize that he has stripped the entire bed including the mattress cover. I'm not overly concerned about washing the sheets, I have a clean set that I can put on his bed, but today was not the day I had this planned, and it is nearly impossible to do housekeeping chores in his room when he is there, it's very stressful. So my stress level just rose from around a 4 (not sure it ever drops below this) to about a 6.
1:50 p.m.- Grandpa comes out with more laundry, including the towels that I just put in his room yesterday, and the blanket that he never uses, that I washed just a few weeks ago. And re-emphasizes how important it is that all of these get washed. Stress level moves up to 7.
2:00 p.m. Grandpa emerges with still more laundry, his actual clothes this time, and is more than a little upset that the pile is still on the floor in front of the laundry room. He remarks that his bed doesn't have any covering on it, and Victor emphasizes that just because he decides that it's time for his clothes to be washed doesn't mean they CAN be, that there is already other laundry being washed and that it is going to be much later that his gets done. Grandpa is not happy. Meanwhile, Kit is following me all around, throwing fits because she can't touch everything she wants to touch, or mad because I keep putting her down in order to have my hands free to accomplish things. Kit is not happy. Stress level up to 8 1/2.
2:20: The washer is done. I have Zak transfer the clothes into the dryer, which he does just fine. I bring Grace in to start their second load. After she puts the soap in and gets the water going, I finally take Kit out who has been crying the whole time because I won't let her on Grace's stool, I won't let her have any candy, and because she is just plain tired and past her ability to wait for Mommy any longer. I leave Grace to load the remainder of the clothes and sit down in the rocking chair to nurse Kit. Kit is finally quiet.
2:25 p.m. Grace yells for help from the laundry room. I yell back what does she need help for. She yells back that something happened to the washing machine. I yell back asking what. She yells back "that thingy fell!!!" After several more failed attempts to elicit more detailed information, I get up, haul Kit to the laundry room to find out what's happening. I don't see any "thingy". Victor arrives, and doesn't see any "thingy". Finally, Grace is descriptive enough to draw our attention to the entire wash basin, which has apparently collapsed somehow and is sitting two inches below the rim of the washer where it is supposed to be. I put Kit down, who of course starts crying. Upon closer examination, we see that it is indeed somehow detached from it's proper place, though we have no idea how. The dryer is running, the wash basin is full of clothes and water and soap now. I have Grandpa's pile still sitting in front of the laundry room door. Kit is crying. My washer is clearly broken. There is no chance of accomplishing today what I had hoped. Stress level - exploding!
I start crying. Victor hugs me.
And that is how once again, I was reminded how foolish and futile it is for me to ever think that I might have a handle on anything around here.
But, the washer is still under warranty. They will be coming to fix it tomorrow. The kids at least have one load of clean clothes so no one is out of underwear. And now we have a concrete reason why Grandpa's clothes will not get washed today. Thank goodness I have spare sheets and towels! So I guess, everything will be better tomorrow.
Right?
Aww. That sounds so sad. :(. The one positive thing about all this, I suppose, is that it sounds like there are a lot of linens and towels involved, not just hundreds of itty bitty white socks. Hope the dryer gets fixed tomorrow.
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