On July 9th, my wife Connie, who has been by my side for 55 years, went in for a hip replacement and is currently in rehab for 10 days. She is doing great, and I will pick her up tomorrow in Scottsdale.
A bit of history:
When we got married in 1972, we agreed on a separation of duties. We would maintain one checking account, with Connie handling the bills while I took care of what I felt was necessary within my sphere of influence “outside” and her’s inside.
This arrangement worked well until now. This morning, I woke up at my usual time of 4:30 and went to my designated nook in the closet, where I keep the only clothes I wear: tight, logoed t-shirts and green or blue shorts, along with white socks. To my surprise, I found the shelves empty—there were no clean clothes available for today. I called Connie to explain the situation. In a snarky tone, she mentioned that the washing machine and dryer are located downstairs, just off the back door.
She seemed a bit put off and said she would be staying at the hotel for several weeks, so I needed to figure it out on my own. After about 20 minutes of pushing knobs and buttons, I finally got the washer started and successfully did the laundry, dam, I forgot the Tide.
The dryer was easier to operate since it had only one knob for selecting cool, dry, or hot settings. Now I’m back in action, wearing clean shorts and t-shirts, and I still have enough suitable underwear to last me a couple more days.
Soon Connie will be back in action; I will no longer need to stress about a shortage of underwear or socks.