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

string cheese before heading back to their room to do homework. The phone rang while I prepared dinner, and I grabbed the cordless so I could keep an eye on my chicken cutlets.
    “Hello?”
    “Um, Maggie Phillips, please?” The female voice sounded hesitant, and it took me a minute to place her.
    “Is this Dee?”
    “Yeah. I, uh, thought you should know that Marty and I broke up, so he isn’t living with me anymore.”
    I dropped my head, feeling the crushing weight of defeat. Dee had been great for Marty, and they’d stayed together for almost three months. I’d only met her once, but I’d liked the pretty, intelligent African American woman, a zoologist in the Bronx. I guess all that animal training still wasn’t enough to deal with my brother.
    “I’m sorry to hear that, Dee,” I said. “Do you have any idea where Marty is now?”
    “No, we had a huge fight about his new job, and he packed up his duffels and hit the road.”
    I cringed from the familiar refrain. “What new job?”
    “Trust me,” Dee said. “You don’t want to know.”
    She was probably right, and my guilt overwhelmed me. I had been responsible for Marty since our parents’ untimely death, and every time I found out about another scheme, I felt like an even bigger failure.
    “Thank you for calling, Dee. I really am very sorry.”
    Dee said goodbye, and I hung up the phone. I turned the chicken cutlets and washed some broccoli, wishing my brother had contacted me before he moved out and praying he would call soon to let me know he was safe. I wished it was Sunday so that I could talk to Neil, knowing that it was silly to call and bug him at work when there was nothing either of us could do until Marty surfaced.
    Dinner was quiet that night. I pushed food around my plate, and the boys gobbled everything before them so they’d be ready to watch the new Avatar movie on TV. I cleaned the kitchen and had the boys sort out their dirty clothes before I started a load of laundry. Of course, their idea of sorting is much different from my own. They put grays in with the whites and bundle sheets and towels together, breaking laundry commandment number two.
    The Laundry Commandments are a big joke in our house. Living in a house full of testosterone has always been like pushing a boulder to the top of the mountain. I would finally feel like I was making some progress, but the next thing I knew, I’d been flattened in the dirt, watching the rock roll back to the bottom. I’d started spouting the Laundry Commandments a few years back, in hopes of making a dent, never once realizing my words were sinking in, but not in the way intended. What had begun as me nagging (I call it ‘explaining’ but Neil insists it’s ‘nagging’) about emptying pockets and using fabric softener had become a chorus of beat Maggie to the punch. Neil and the boys had actually hand carved me an 11x13 sign which now hangs above the dryer.

    The Laundry Commandments :

1) Thou shall separate thy whites (i.e. socks, undergarments) from thy colored clothes.

2) Thou shall not mix thy sheets with thy towels.

3) Honor thy (my) lint screen and keep it free of crud.

4) Thy workout clothes must be washed with thy towels not my new white top.

5) Empty thy pockets of gum, Chapstick, baseball cards, wallets, keys, candy, Swiss army knives, and all other pocket flotsam or thou shall evoke the wrath of the Laundry Goddess.

6) Thou shall not mess with the water temperature settings without my permission.

7) Thou must remove clothes from the washing machine in a timely manner, i.e. before the plague of mildew sets in.

8) If thou are confused about liquid vs. powdered detergent, ASK!

    I could easily imagine Neil working overtime to change “Laundry Goddess” into “Laundry Hag”. It’s a darn good thing I have an excellent sense of humor.

    * * * *
    Neil arrived home shortly after the boys were in bed for the night. I was dead on my feet and without the energy to tell him about my day. I heated his dinner, kissed him goodnight, and dragged myself into bed. In that blissful state between asleep and awake, where all the hard edges of the world melt away, my body relaxed.
    The phone rang. Neil answered it on the second ring and flicked on the overhead light as he entered our room. I groaned and squinted.
    “It’s Mr. Kline for you.” He ignored my wave of refusal and held the phone to my ear.
    “Maggie, I’m so sorry to disturb you this late, but I heard your