#vss: Laundry

Writing Prompt: Laundry Day

There are some things you have to do no matter how much you hate them. She would sadly admit that she was one of those people who procrastinated taking care of her laundry. In her opinion, doing laundry was the worst. To maximize her non-laundry-doing time, she would give every garment the sniff test several times and would wait in a comfortable state of denial until the last possible moment before finally having to convince herself that it was time. Then, she would dedicate an entire day to washing, drying, folding, and putting away all of her clothes.

And now, after almost a month of postponing and promising herself that she'd do it next weekend and re-wearing the shirt with the mustard stain on it, it was finally time.

She was ready. Nearly every single piece of clothing that she owned was neatly sorted into baskets, and the baskets sat waiting in the order she planned to wash them.

She armed herself with a basket of towels and rode the rickety elevator all the way to the basement, where there was a damp, ill-lit room with a couple of coin operated washing machines and a coin operated dryer that was broken so that it no longer required $2.50 to tumble your sheets.

Then disaster struck. Apparently the building manager had finally caught on to the fact that the dryer was giving it away, and there was an out of order sign on it. Only, “of” had an extra “F,” so what the sign really said was “out off order,” but she got the gist. But that wasn’t the disaster. The day already sucked; she was doing laundry. She tried the top secret get-the-dryer-to-go punch-and-kick move, but nothing happened. She resigned herself to having to hang dry her clothes in her bathroom. Oh well.

Then she turned around to plunk her towels and a handful of quarters into a washing machine. That’s when the disaster struck. Not one, but both of the washing machines sported very stylish handmade signs, in a similar state “off” misspell to that of the one stuck to the dryer.

Worst day ever.

No, it wasn’t that bad. She was already doing laundry. Go big or go home.

She rode the elevator back up to the fifth floor and got to work. She knew that it would take a while, but figured that washing everything by hand would be easier (and cheaper!) than hauling it all off to a laundromat. And she was right. Well, at least the part about it taking a while. After about half an hour, the tub was scrubbed clean and everything washable was in it, including the scruffy t-shirt and the basketball shorts from high school that she’d been wearing earlier. She stepped back and surveyed her hard work. The first stage was over, and there was no sense in putting off the next.

She leaned on the sink and absorbed herself in a badly written novel while she ran water over her clothes. A chapter and a half later, she put the book down, shut off the tap, and grabbed a soggy pair of jeans to get to work.

She picked up a nearby bottle without thinking much of it, but when she looked at it, she laughed at herself. There was no way she was going to clean her clothes with shampoo. She put down the jeans and went to the hall closet for her laundry detergent.

But it wasn’t there.

The only thing that was there was the joke gift her brother had given her two Christmases ago: her very own bear themed one piece footie pajamas.

“It might be worth it to invest in a laundry service,” she thought as she walked down the street to buy more laundry detergent, wearing the only piece of clothing she owned that was still clean. “But really, it could be worse; at least the little bear hood is keeping my ears warm.”

A Writer's Relief Writing Prompt from March 2, 2015

Adult

I’ve felt really lazy lately, and procrastination is fun. The last several days, I haven’t started writing anything until the very late afternoon, sometimes the evening. I’m pretty creative, so I can think of lots of excuses not to work, or reasons that I’m not working, but I haven’t wanted to put any effort in to even do that.

Earlier today I was talking to a couple of co-workers about a project that I’m working on. I’m not shirking my part, but I can’t do what I need to do unless I am contacted by others. “They’re adults,” I told them. “This is their job; if they don’t want to do it, I can’t make them. It just won’t get done until they actually put forth the effort.”

After this conversation, I came home and started dinking around on the internet. I found a writing prompt and got to work on it (sort of). But during my procrastination, I came across several different things: two tweets (from people I don’t follow, retweeted by two separate people I do follow) and a tumblr post via George Takei’s facebook page. (Yes. This is a lot of procrastinating.) All three seemed to be shouting at me: WHY ARE YOU NOT WORKING???

Tweets by Matthew Wrex and C. Spike Trotman; George Takei's facebook is always full of crazy stuff.

The universe was putting up a sign in the places I procrasti-loiter to tell me that I’m an adult, that writing is my job (one that I love), but if I don’t want to do it, the universe can’t force me to. I won’t write something brilliant (or even anything lame) until I actually put forth the effort to get it done.

Blog Canceled on Account of Sleepy

I worked all day and I'm too sleepy for anything tonight.

Words for the Blog

I answered phones at work all day today, but my boss is awesome so he didn’t object when my brother called me at about 4:30 to chat. “I haven’t written anything for my blog today,” I told my brother, “on Fridays I usually write about crocheting.” I pronounced the last word incorrectly (with a short o instead of a long one), because pronouncing things incorrectly is hilarious.

“What? What are you saying?” my brother said. “Talk to me like I’m a human.”

I assumed a more businesslike tone. “The documentation I have informs me that you are a human;” I said, “is this correct?”

“Yes,” my brother replied, pretending to sound relieved.

“Anyway,” I said, discarding the banter, “I haven’t written any words for my blog today.”

“I’ve got some words!” my brother declared, and without preamble, produced a list:

"And now, I choose to recite a list."

Kitten

Twenty

Forthwith

Heretofore

Inasmuch

Pronto

Salad

Scissors

Withering

Icy

Philandering

Bricks

When he was finished, I said, “Thanks for the words.”

“Anytime,” he replied, “that’s what I’m here for.”

How to Get Things Done

People often* ask me, “How do you Get Things Done?” I usually laugh and quickly change the subject to try to make them forget that they asked the question in the first place, but today I’m finally ready to share my secret.

How do I Get Things Done? By engaging in simple Work Avoidance™.

Have a big project to complete? What a perfect time to organize your underwear drawer! Need to do the laundry because your kids don’t have any clean clothes to wear to school tomorrow? Vacuum the drapes instead! How about mopping the kitchen floor? Now is the time to finally till up that garden plot you’ve been meaning to plant since last spring.

As you can see, as long as you have something more pressing to attend to, you can accomplish any number of tasks just by convincing yourself that these other tasks are more pressing. “I should have taken a toothbrush to this tile grout weeks ago.” “These dishes are filthy; I need to take care of them right away [despite the fact that they’ve been languishing in the sink for days]!” “I can’t believe I waited this long to organize my magazines!”

Don’t have any pressing tasks to accomplish that could overshadow your everyday household chores? The future is always there to help you out: honestly, you could be getting those Halloween costumes together or out shopping/thinking about what you could get/feverishly making something for a Christmas gift for [insert treasured friend or relative here] or wondering what romantic Valentine’s Day celebration you are going to come up with for your significant other.

How can you Get Things Done? Just follow the Work Avoidance™ plan. Any task, real or imagined, monumentous or trifling, tedious or enjoyable can be accomplished by merely having something else more important to do. Tell yourself, “It’s okay to put off [that more important thing], because I’m doing [this thing], and [this thing] is also important, and I’ve been meaning to do it, anyway. I’ll do [that more important thing] when I’m finished with [this thing], and maybe [that other thing], too. I’m working on [tasks], and that’s what’s really important.”

With Work Avoidance™, you’ll accomplish all those things that you’ve been meaning to. Well, not all of them. Just most of them. The ones you’d rather do before the others. The point is, most of the Things will Get Done.

Good luck.

*never

Joy and Sorrow

We pulled into the parking lot and both glanced around for a space. There wasn’t one. Nick said, “Don’t worry, we have two minutes to spare.”

“Uh, no we don’t,” I replied, pointing at the door to the church, “It must have started at 4 and not 4:30; look.” Well-wishers crowded around the door, making use of bubbles even though the bride and groom were still inside receiving hugs and congratulations from guests. We joined the throng and waited. Soon, Emily, who had not been busy setting up a system for a DJ or a photo booth and had actually made it to the ceremony, came out of the church and I waved her over. She handed me a vial of bubbles and told me how wonderful the ceremony had been, about the vows and how to tell which of the guys standing around were groomsmen: “They have a Power Ranger figurine pinned to their jackets.”

“This is going to be an awesome time,” I said.

“Oh, yeah!” Emily agreed.

A girl came out of the church and joined some of her friends who were standing behind us. Emily discovered some relatives standing on the other side of the sidewalk, and while she was occupied I had nothing to do but listen to the conversations taking place around me (I couldn’t enjoy the bubbles yet; the wind was blowing toward me, and I was already dodging bubbles headed for my face.)

They were talking about her shoes.

“Why did you wear those?” one of her friends asked.

“They’re brand new!” she declared, then admitted, “I’ll probably take them off soon.”

I glanced behind me at the footwear in question: the shiny, six inch taupe heels were definitely not made for dancing. The girl was already uncomfortable, shifting her weight quickly from one foot to the other.

It wasn’t long before all the guests were outside waiting, and the bride and groom made their grand exit. Andrew stopped to kiss his beautiful wife, and the wind had changed directions, so I blew as many bubbles as I could manage.

Nick loitered near his vehicle, clearly waiting for me while I said hello to my friend Li Hui from Chinese class (that’s not really her name, but I called her that for so long that it seems weird to call her anything else; she calls me Pa Li Sha). I wanted to talk more, but we had to get back to the reception venue to make sure everything was ready. “I really hope we have time to catch up later but right now I really have to go!” I told her, smiling at the little one she held.

We booked it back to the banquet hall.

Guests arrived and made use of the photo booth while waiting for the wedding party (who, instead of stopping at a bar for some shots, had gone to a local comic book store for some quick purchases). Among the first to dig into the props was the girl with the new shoes. I was paying attention to some other guests, so I didn’t notice her or her friend until I heard them talking about her feet again.

“Are you sure about those shoes?” he was asking her.

“It’s the first time I’ve worn them!” she said.

“Well, they’re really cute,” I told her.

“Thanks!” she said, bouncing a little. “I’ll probably need to take them off to dance later.”

“You can borrow mine if you want,” I offered, holding out a flip-flopped foot.

“That’s okay,” she laughed, “I’ll be all right, but thanks anyway.”

The wedding party arrived with all the pomp and circumstance that a cheering crowd can give, in addition to a saber arch provided by the groomsmen and bridesmaids (though the swords were slightly mismatched. The best man held a replica of The Sword of Omens from ThunderCats, while the rest held Japanese katana or other replicas).

The night only got more awesome and nerdy from there. After dancing their first dance (to a song from an anime soundtrack which was particularly close to their hearts), Andrew and Vanessa danced Gangnam Style with their friends all in a line facing the tables, as though the dance floor were a stage, and those who had chosen not to dance, the audience. This "stage show" trend continued the whole night, through two Pokémon and a Power Rangers theme song (not to mention Bohemian Rhapsody), and only dissolved during the Cha Cha Slide and the Cupid Shuffle.

Any lull in the music, and, instead of clinking their glasses, people were rolling a big inflatable d20 to determine how the bride and groom would kiss. A Dungeons and Dragons-style roll/action chart was on every table, letting everyone know what to expect. There was an action for every number: a 10 (the “average”) was an Eskimo kiss, while a 20 (the best) was “a kiss to rival the end of The Princess Bride.” Lower rolls had the newlyweds high fiving, fist bumping, or hugging. A few times they had to give each other an awkward sibling hug (lean in, but not too close, one hand on the back, and “pat pat”). On a 1, the person rolling had to go kiss someone else (guess who rolled a 1? Yeah, me. Emily was surprised, and a reply text from Lionsby showed that he didn’t believe us, demanding, “pics or it didn’t happen”).

The guests fresh from Anime NebrasKon were best able to appreciate the movie, anime, and video game references on the signs had I made for the photo booth. I saw several people I knew by sight from the couple of times I attended the anime club when I was in college. And though I didn’t get actually get to talk to them much, Li Hui came over with her family to get in the booth. The girl with the brand new shoes joined them, and I looked at the scrapbook after they went back to sit down, and saw that her name was Jaci. I puzzled for a while over whether it was pronounced like “JC” or like “Jackie,” and thought that it would be cool to get back into the anime crowd, since a lot of them looked like they would be totally awesome people to hang out with.

After such an fun, energetic night, I’m sure everybody needed some time to rest and recuperate. I took a nap in the afternoon and was sleepy the rest of the day, but that didn’t stop me from hopping online and leaving a message for Li Hui on facebook, since she and her husband took their girls home (understandably) early.

I enjoyed looking at pictures that Andrew and Vanessa’s friends and family had already uploaded to facebook. Among them were shots of the pre-wedding 3DS session, several of people dancing, and some even of the pictures that were taken in the photo booth. It made me smile to see that Li Hui’s friend Jaci had snapped a shot of a couple she had taken and put them up, and even made one of them her profile picture.

Right before I went to bed, Emily posted a news article on facebook, along with something about the NebrasKon family “losing another member.” The headline of the article was “Car vs Motorcycle Fatality.” The video on channel 8 hadn’t released the name of the victim, but after some more glancing around on facebook, I found a mutual friend who had linked to her page.

It was Jaci.

I stared at the screen.

“But she was dancing yesterday,” I told it. “She was wearing her brand new shoes and making faces in the photo booth.”

She was 24.

Life is wonderful, amazing, and fun. It’s full of joy and sorrow. I didn’t know her, but Jaci seemed like a great person and a fantastic friend. For those who knew and loved her, I’m sorry for your loss. I hope that soon you forget your pain and remember Jaci laughing, smiling, and taking off her shoes to dance Gangnam Style at Andrew and Vanessa’s wedding.

Crafting Awesome

“And is there anything specific, props-wise, that you want me to get for you?” I ask every single client, after talking about what time they want the photo booth to start, how much space I need, and the extra table that’s great to have to help their guests find the props they want to use.

“Uh, no, I think just the basic stuff will be fine,” they answer, because their wedding is approaching faster than they thought it would and this is just one more decision that they never dreamed they’d have to make. “As long as you’ve got, like, silly hats and glasses, and some mustaches, I think that would be okay.”

The Princess Bride signs that Vanessa
& Andrew's guests will love

I always try to make sure my clients know that their day is special to me, and that if there is anything I can do to make it even more awesome, all they have to do is let me know. “If you or your fiance can think of anything you’d like, some kind of inside joke or reference that I can put on a sign, just give me a call or text and I’ll make sure to have it, okay?”

Then we hang up, and I know I’m not going to get a call or text. Probably the bride or groom I just talked to isn’t even going to remember to ask their spouse-to-be about it, because their main feeling of the moment is relief that they don’t have to worry about any more planning for the photo booth, since it’s taken care of.

And that’s okay. Planning a wedding is so stressful, even if you have an awesome mom, cousin, personal attendant, or hired wedding planner (or even all of the above) to take some of the weight off your own shoulders.

BEARDS for Drew & Kate's
outdoorsy-themed reception

Guests will have fun with a photo booth no matter what, props or no props (at a wedding a couple of months ago, there was nothing on the props table except a few mustaches, and the guests still had a blast). That being said, I love it when a client gets as excited about the photo booth as I do.

This weekend, I have the privilege to make two amazing weddings more awesome. The greatest part is, I know my clients are really excited about the photo booth! I’ve never had a busier prop-making week before; what a great problem to have!

Pockets, Please

The pants I wear to work don’t have pockets in them.

WHAT IS THE DEAL, FASHION

I have never liked carrying tons of stuff around with me everywhere I go, but some stuff is necessary. People need keys. Their phone. A couple of bucks and maybe a driver’s license. The best place for these things is on your person. If you put them in a bag, the first thing you’re going to do when you get to your friend’s house, that wedding reception, or the club is put them down. Nobody brings their purse along to the dance party. Your stuff is probably safe at your friend’s house, but if you leave it on a table in public, somebody might walk off with it, which will leave you walking home at the end of the evening to a locked apartment.

You could ask someone to hold your things for you, but eventually they’re going to get sick of that. You could check your purse at the coat check, but does anywhere actually do that anymore? And even if they do, then you’re stuck carrying a ticket around with you so you can get your stuff back. There’s always the classy, attention-catching move of sticking your phone in your bodice. It’s not terribly alluring. People tend to think things like “That looks uncomfortable!” and “What’s wrong with that girl?” and “I wonder why she put her phone in her bra.”

Who can we blame for this? Is it our fault for not buying clothes to hold our possessions? Or is it the fault of fashion that the cutest dress ever that we couldn’t resist buying has nothing to aid us in toting our stuff around except a low cut top?

Where do I sign the petition to make pockets a fashionable thing? There is no way that it is impossible to design something cute that also has room for your car keys. Or maybe we should just all stop buying things that don’t have pockets in them. And no, stuff that has a fake pocket on it doesn’t count.

Come on, fashion. Help us out, here. We all need secret compartments on our person to conceal objects that we can use to pay for stuff, get into our car later, or call a friend for a ride.

WE DEMAND POCKETS.

Excuses, Excuses

I've got a lot of excuses today. "I should clean my house; it's a mess." "I'm really tired after working all weekend, I should probably grab a nap." "My computer is being a jerk and won't let me use the internet, so how can I sit down and write something?"

I'm pretty great at coming up with excuses. But I'm the only one in charge of me, and if I have enough creativity to avoid doing what I know I should be doing, then that proves that I have enough creativity to just do it.

I'm always tired on Monday. My house is usually a mess (but I'm working on it!). And my computer has been deteriorating for months. I'm an adult. And I should be mature enough to do the things that need to be done before doing the things that I want to do. Plus, I have the blogger app on my phone, which defeats the "stupid computer!" excuse.

Now I'll go do the dishes. And then maybe take a nap.

Back to Normal?

Ahh. Time to get back to normal after a busy weekend.

But “normal” isn’t the same for everyone. For me, it’s an organized mess. A disorganized mess is intolerable. If it’s messy, but I can find everything, I’m good. If there are boxes of old baby clothes next to my desk and I don’t know where the air mattress is, I’ll go crazy.

Among many other things that happened this weekend, all of the furniture in the two most furniture-laden rooms in our house had to be moved so that the floors could be refinished. The results vary depending on how you look at it: if you’re into gorgeous hardwood floors, then you’d say that the work was a success, while if you’re one of those people who is into meticulously clean households, you’d shake your head in disappointment.

The floors do look great. And eventually I’ll find everything and put it in a place that I can find it again. But for now, I think I’ll relax.

Maybe I’ll look for the air mattress later.

The Great Mustache Superfluity of 2014

I like to tell people that there is nothing bad about my job as a photo booth operator. Except that I have to carry the stuff in and out of venues. Everything (if you don’t count the hauling bit) about my job is fun. I get to watch people make hilarious faces at the camera, help them put on silly hats, and offer everyone a ridiculous mustache.

Photo booths are super popular right now for weddings receptions, school carnivals, and corporate parties. So, popular, in fact, that our company’s two photo booths weren’t going to be able to make it to all of the events where they were wanted. In honor of a brand new third photo booth, I decided to make some new props, and it kind of… got out of hand.

The Great Mustache Superfluity of 2014

I don’t think we’ll need seventeen mustaches immediately, but I’m sure we’ll use them all eventually. Photo booth props get lost and broken pretty often, so at least this way I know I have extras.

I definitely have the necessary faux facial hair to head to the World Beard & Mustache Championships if I wanted to.

After a Long Day...

The best thing after a long day of work is having a serious heart to heart with your four year old during the car ride home.
The best thing after a long day of work is coming home to find your awesome husband making a delicious meal for you.
The best thing after a long day of work is heading to bed early to curl up with several good books.
The best thing about today was all of those things happened to me.

The Writing on the Wall

“I love a good spring cleaning,” my aunt told me, the memory of past springs and hope for future cleanings sparkling in her eyes. “I get my husband to help me carry all the rugs downstairs to be washed, and then I sweep and vacuum everything and wipe down all the walls.”

“You clean the walls?” I asked, skeptical.

“It makes the house feel so much cleaner!” she insisted.

When I got up today, the early morning sun was filtering across my kitchen floor. It was a lovely and inspiring scene, and filled me with determination. It also showed me that I needed to sweep the floor.

I figured that while I was sweeping, I might as well give the counters a good scrub. And then it’s not much of a stretch to go from wiping down the counters to testing the wall-cleaning theory.

I scrubbed, still skeptical, and then looked at the paper towel when I was finished.

I guess the writing on the wall says I’m ready for some spring cleaning.

Miraclewich

In this day and age, people get easily depressed over small things. It’s understandable. A missed breakfast and forgetting to bring your lunch can leave you hungry and sad all day. It may even leave a person desperate enough to consider ordering a sandwich for delivery, when they don’t even like sandwiches. I know it’s a bad day when I start daydreaming about Jimmy John’s.

But though we live in a world of skipped breakfasts and forgotten lunches, it is also a world where miracles happen. It is a world where you can be languishing with hunger when suddenly two sandwich peddlers appear and offer you a sample to promote their new location in the Railyard. And you can feast upon a tiny vegetarian sandwich with cucumber and guacamole. There is hope in this world.

Dreams do come true.

Thursday in History: Stamp of Approval

Yesterday at the Post Office, they didn’t have any 21 cent stamps. THANKS, OBAMA.

On this day in history in history in 1792, George Washington signed a piece of legislation that officially established the United States Postal Service.

Washington’s face is on our 20 cent stamps today. I’ve been seeing a lot of them lately, that and the one cent stamps I have to use because no one in America seems to have any 21 cent stamps.

As I stare at the likeness of our first president, I wonder what he would have thought about having his face pasted everywhere. What would he have said about the 20 cent stamps?

Check out more stamps on pinterest.

“Ugh, why did they use that portrait? My hair was awful that day!”  

- George Washington

Invisible Assistant

I wander to the copy machine.

"Okay, now this is... ...what?" I say aloud, puzzling over paperwork. "Oh, I see what you did there." Problem solved, I poke buttons on the machine and then get back to work.

My aunt approaches the copy machine, muttering, "Well, why would you do that?" to the paper in front of her. She sees me watching and says defensively, "Yes, I do talk to myself!" and laughs.

"You're not crazy," I reply, "you're just pretending that you've got an invisible assistant."

Fancy Footwear

I like to look at pretty shoes. I especially like to look at pretty shoes when they're inexpensive. Not that I'm going to buy them, but it makes them more attractive when I know that if I did purchase them I wouldn't be spending everything I have.
It's nice to look, but it's even nicer to have an occasion to wear pretty shoes. There's just one problem with that, though. Pretty shoes are never comfortable.
I have work shoes. Frumpy, flat, plain things that will keep my feet from whining at me while I stand for several hours. They don't make me feel pretty, but I can stand to wear them for a long time.
There's something about high heels that boost my confidence level at the same time that they are elevating my heels. If I know that I look good, then I feel good, too.
In a perfect universe, pretty shoes are comfortable shoes. In this universe, I'll just keep staring longingly at the pictures on the fancy shoe website, wondering if I could stand to wear any of the pretty ones for more than an hour.

Hesitance

I’m old enough to remember hand writing papers for high school. Sometimes I typed them up and printed them, but I didn’t start doing that exclusively until college. Today, I hardly write anything on paper, since the place I need it to be is on the computer anyway.

I use Google Drive to store my documents. All of them. Hardly any of my writing is stored on my computer’s hard drive, and the reason is simple: I don’t trust it.

Those three heartbeats worth of blind panic when you’re not daring to breathe as though that would bring back your lost file is not a moment that I enjoy living through. I’ve lost plenty of homework and personal writing work because the computer I was working on decided to die forever.

That Vader-esque “NOOOOOOO” feeling is not pleasant, nor is the look on the professor’s face when you’re asking for an extension to re-write what your computer lost, the one that is trying to decide whether the bags under your eyes are there because you waited until the last minute (and let’s face it, you did) or if they are truly evidence of your frustration with the faith which you put in your computer.

So my reluctance to use a writing program that stores things on my hard drive instead of my computer is understandable. I’ve heard that Scrivener is a really great program. It certainly looks interesting, with its vows to organize everything from various projects and its zillions of folders, but I’m still hesitant.

One thing I know I can’t do with Scrivener is easily share something online. And I can’t work on a problem sentence in the same document at the same time as my writing partner. Those are things I can do in with Google Drive.

I’m happy with the way I work. Learning a whole new software program seems like a lot of work for who knows how much gain. And what if my computer dies and loses all of everything? There’s no ‘undo’ button for a crashed hard drive.

I’m not sure about Scrivener yet. We’ll see… I’ll reserve judgement for when I’m done with this 80 page tutorial.