The Misadventures of the Laundry Hag 00 - Skeletons in the Closet

Chapter One
    O ne of these days the world will be invaded by aliens, and I’ll miss it. Since I average at least an hour to get dressed, the mother ship will enslave the human race while I’m struggling with pantyhose. Do other women have these problems?
    I don’t know about the rest of my gender, but I average an hour, not due to my technique for applying makeup or picking out the perfect outfit. My hour consists of stupid hold-ups. For instance, one evening not so long ago, I climbed from my shower, did the eyeliner and mascara bit, and turned my attention to my hair. I’d pulled my semi-dry tresses into a bun while doing makeup, but one scraggly gray stood straight up in the air, a traitorous rebel surrendering to the onslaught of age. I didn’t want to pull the bugger because I’ve heard that three more will take its place. Who knows if this is actually true, but why take the risk? So I combed the gray, and that’s when I saw it.
    Dandruff.
    Shit.
    Why didn’t I use the Head-n-Shoulders? So now the crisis: should I ignore the dry, flakey scalp and forgo the awesome black dress for something else or rewash my hair?
    Neil pounded on the bathroom door. “Are you almost ready?”
    I gazed in the mirror. The gray hair and the dandruff had joined forces and were on a full-fledged campaign to ruin my appearance.
    “I’ll be done when I’m done,” I announced through the door.
    “Come on, Maggie, we’re gonna be late.”
    I rolled my eyes. Big shocker. Neil and I were always late. As the parents of two young boys, we blamed our tardiness on the kids, but in truth, I’m usually at fault.
    I poked my head around the corner. “Go check on the boys.”
    “Yikes,” Neil said as he scanned the horror of his wife. “Take your time.”
    Neil is a retired navy SEAL. It takes some effort to scare him.
    I turned back to the mirror.
    “What I need is a game plan,” I told my reflection. I grabbed a pair of cuticle scissors from my vanity table and attempted to cut the gray. This was not as simple as it may sound. Trying to sever just the gray required both a steady hand and compensation for the backwards motion in the mirror. A few of the dark brown strands were sacrificed for the greater good. Next up, the dandruff.
    The pipes groaned as the ancient water heater worked overtime, and I tapped my foot for a few beats before climbing under the spray. I lathered my hair with the Head-n-Shoulders, rinsed and repeated. Next, I used the fruity shampoo and conditioner, because a woman can never smell too fruity. The hot water went AWOL during the final rinse, and I stepped shivering from the glassed-in shower. I used the towel to swipe the steam from the mirror and stifled the urge to scream. My waterproof mascara streamed down my face, giving me that Bride o’ Frankenstein effect.
    I washed my face with cold water and scrubbed like crazy to remove the black streaks. After five minutes, my face had turned bright pink from scrubbing and exertion, but the hideous black lines appeared significantly lighter. I broke out the foundation and covered the mess as best I could, re-did my eyes, and blew my hair dry. One final check, to assure myself the gray hair and dandruff had been subdued, and I donned my bathrobe.
    I marched out of the bathroom and found Neil spread eagled on our queen-size bed while my sons, Josh and Kenny, bounced on the mattress around him. Neil’s eyes remained closed.
    “It’s safe,” I informed him.
    “Mommy, Josh didn’t brush his teeth,” Kenny told me mid-bounce.
    “Kenny didn’t either,” Josh re-tattled on his brother.
    Hands on hips, I squared off like a drill sergeant. “What am I going to say?”
    “Go brush our teeth,” Kenny and Josh chorused in a flat tone. They gave one final bounce and scurried off to their bathroom. Neil rolled to his side and looked up at me.
    “Better?” I asked him.
    “Except for the RuPaul make-up.”
    “I had some issues.”
    “Maggie, you always have issues.”
    “But you love me?” I flashed him my hundred watt smile.
    “I love you, but I think I need a beer.”

    * * * *
    After a decade of service to his country, Neil left the navy and uprooted our family from Virginia Beach to the wilds of Massachusetts. Neil has New England imprinted on his DNA, and when he’d begged me to move to Hudson, I didn’t have the heart to refuse. We bought a three bedroom, two bath ranch built in the early nineteen sixties and now inhabit a small suburban