Nobody's Perfik

Last evening I could tell Lovie was starting to feel better. It was Italian night (again) and I was reheating some two-day-old spaghetti and meatballs and suddenly I received the strong implication I could be doing it better. In fact, I found myself sitting upon the kitchen stool while she resumed her command post in front of the stove.
“Don’t put it all into the pot at once.” I was gently told. “Heat the pasta in the microwave while the sauce is heating in the pot. “THEN mix the two together in the heated sauce.”
Ah, the nuances of reheating. A lesson learned – but more importantly I stated the obvious, “Looks like you are feeling better!”
But shortly before that scene I was led into a little room near our basement stairs. It’s a room that previously had not sparked my interest in the twelve years of living in this house.
In it I was introduced to two big white metal boxes. One with a lid on top that when swung open, I was advised to put the dirty clothes. But not just any dirty clothes. I had to find the dark colored items and do them at the same time. That got complicated when I got to the grey things – you know, the ones that were white when they were new. Life’s gray areas pose dilemmas even in places like this.
I put the approved things in this big white box and was told which dials and buttons to push on the control panel that resembles the dashboard of a 747.
About an hour later, I returned and looked into the big white metal box and the clothes were all wet and plastered to the sides of the interior.
“This’ll never do!” I declared. They will be too wet and cold to wear – especially this time of year.
“Not to worry!” answered Lovie. “Now we can use the big white metal box next to this one.”
Upon further investigation, I noted the door is on the front on this one. I opened it and then was directed to take the wet clothes out of the big white metal box on the left and put them into the front door of the big white metal box on the right.
“It’s a good thing they put the doors in different places on each one – makes it easier to tell them apart!” I said.
“You are so smart!” she replied.
That made me feel good
I closed the front door of the second box, turned one dial, then another and pushed a button.
“What’ll this one do?” I asked.
“Wait and see.” said Lovie. “When the buzzer sounds, come right away and you’ll find out.”

This entry was posted on Thursday, February 28th, 2013 at 8:23 am and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.