Voices
Normally I have a little voice in my head. That little voice performs a valuable task on a daily basis. It inspects every thought and idea that passes through my mind, checking each for sanity. Ironic, really, since it’s a voice in my head. Last night it was distracted, perhaps by the return of Grey’s Anatomy. Perhaps it was just a little tired. After all there’s a great deal needing a sanity check inside my mind. Whatever was going on in there, it was lax. I’d fire it, but I really need that pedantic little bastard.
There I was, sitting on the sofa, wondering what the Chief would think of Izzy using all of those hospital supplies to save a bloody deer for Christ’s sake, I mean honestly surely she could have found something with only two legs, when an idea occurred to me. I passed it on to the veto department who, to my surprise, passed it right back with a “Great!” stamp decorating it. What was this idea?
I could wash our underlay tomorrow! I can do it in the bath tub! It’s going to be warm and sunny for the next few days! Even if it doesn’t dry tomorrow, it will by Tuesday!
How that idea would get by even an Evil Genius’ incompetent guards I don’t know. My little voice, normally thorough and more or less trustworthy should have known better. Apparently it didn’t, or there’s some sort of industrial action inside my skull that I somehow missed the memo on. Either way, the second the Man of the House was out the door for the second time this morning I got to work stripping the bed. Obviously there was something in there that knew what a stupid plan this all was, it had the presence of mind to make sure the Man of the House was really gone and not in a position to stop me.
The underlay went into the bath with a pile of Napisan. It got agitated, drained, another blast of Napisan and a rinse. That’s about the point where I spotted the first problem. I was facing a very long walk to the back door with a sopping great padded woolen underlay in my arms, dribbling water onto the carpet. And I mean, who doesn’t just love the smell of wet carpet?
Too late to turn back now, I decided. I cast about for a waterproof receptacle large enough to house my sodden underlay. The closest thing I could find was our kitchen rubbish bin. I emptied that, pulled out the Pine - O - Cleen and boiling water and got to work. With my now pine-fresh and disinfected rubbish bin I made my way back to the bathroom.
Who wants to guess how heavy a fully saturated, padded wool underlay is? Any takers?
If you guessed, “heavier than I can lift” then no. Close but no cookie. Okay, you can have a cookie. But you have to get it yourself. If you guessed, “beyond the clothes line’s load bearing capacity” then closer. They don’t build those things like they used to. No, the answer to the question, how heavy is a fully saturated, padded wool underlay? would be, “Very bloody heavy”.
Please, Voice, I’ll give you anything you want, just end the strike now, before someone gets hurt.
Tagged: domestic inconveniences.