Patrick and I got a beautiful white duvet cover with matching shams for our wedding. They’ve been on the guest bed since summer of ’06. I washed them for the first time this weekend. Shut up. I wash the sheets after every visitor.
They came out sparkling white and wrinkled as hell, so I pulled out the iron. There is something tremendously satisfying about ironing a massive pile of white linen, and I was humming to myself while I worked. It took over an hour to iron the cover, and I felt like I’d done a yoga meditation by the time I was finished. I got to thinking that perhaps if Heath Ledger, or Amy Winehouse, or Britney Spears, and all the other slightly spoiled stars were forced to do their own laundry, they’d be much less likely to spiral out of control, to die young. Laundry is a simple yet satisfying thing, one of those psychological anchors that can keep the demons at bay.
After a couple of minutes of work, I saw the dog come in for a visit. Something about the iron made him completely flip, and he stood at the door, hackles raised, and barked furiously at it. I got down on my knees to show him the iron, to hold it out so he could see it wasn’t hurting me, or him. Then I realized . . . hmmm. My dog is seven months old. And this is the first time he’s seen an iron. Perhaps I have been walking around looking a bit more dishevelled than is advisable.
After he got over his deathly fear of the iron, he came in and plopped right down on the clean white duvet with his rawhide, chewing and slobbering away. After I removed him at least six times, I finally gave up and chucked him outside the door, where he politely scratched and quietly woofed in order to let me know that he was out there and perhaps I had accidentally shut the door on him? And was unaware that I had done so? And maybe I would like to let him back in so he could enjoy his new, sweet smelling, warm nest? Hello?
I got the cover ironed, and wrestled the duvet back into it, and surveyed my handiwork. Our guest room is my favorite in the house – a beach theme, decorated with items that Patrick and I each brought to the marriage that somehow worked beautifully together. When I found out I was pregnant one of my initial selfish reactions was – now I’m going to have to rearrange my favorite room. That’s not fair, I love this room. Humph. Well, since then we have rearranged it, and I’ve made space in my closet and in my drawers for Jack’s clothes. We’ve dumped old papers and files to make room for his books. I removed some of the decorative items that littered the desktop and dresser, and now they are ready for a changing pad and miscellaneous baby items. I think the room looks much better now than it did before.
This weekend, our crib arrived. It’s waiting, in pieces, for Patrick and I to put it together. Another task. Another meditation. I’m looking forward to seeing how it will look in my room. In Jack’s room. I realize now how fitting it is that I give my son my favorite space. He should get the best of everything. The best we have to offer.
But if he spits up on my white duvet cover, he’s out.
I love white on white, I\’m just too chicken to decorate with it. I\’m imagining Jack\’s room and how clean and fresh it must look 🙂
On to the dog…who, if he\’s anything like he is when you speak for him, must be the cutest little pup ever! He\’s going to be so cute around the baby, considering he\’s way too short to jump up…!
http://threeparrotsisle.blogspot.com/
I love my dog. This will sound weird, but I love him so much, with all my heart, and I\’m so protective of his little black wiggly self, that it\’s hard for me to imagine just how much more I\’m going to love my baby. Since they\’re going to get along great, I won\’t have to choose between them, and so lucky me!
I love you, and I loved your post, but I just want to go on record with this: I take just a teeny-tiny bit of umbrage with your lumping of Heath in w/Brit-Brit, Hot-Mess Amy, and LiLo. Not the same.
Ah, when oh when will I get to see your favorite room/Jack\’s room? Sigh.
Re: Heath, et. al
I see your point. Let me try to walk you through my thought process! Heath was who I originally thought of as I ironed, because he had something like 6 prescriptions in him. Depression drugs, sleeping pills, pills to stay awake – I don\’t know. Per his own interviews, he was getting all stressed out about being a character and getting in character and the characters were keeping him from sleeping. And as I ironed, I was thinking . . . man, if Heath Ledger\’s life was a little more mundane and a little less theoretical, he may not have needed that sleeping pill that broke the camel\’s back that day. I\’m an actor, sort of, so I think I\’m allowed to say that we creative types – we can get wrapped up in our art. I think mundane chores can pull you out of the clouds when you\’re so consumed by a project that you forget which way is up, forget how to sleep, forget how to be alive except in your own head. If he was in charge of watching his little girl that week, he\’d still be alive I reckon, because instead of trying to squeeze in a nap helped along with a pill, he would\’ve been making her a peanut butter sandwich, you know?
Then I threw in Britney et al because I thought – ahhh, unlucky Heath, he was living a fine life but just didn\’t keep careful track of when he took what prescription. Then you got your Britney and your Lilo and your others who can\’t keep their crap together even remotely at all, and wouldn\’t it be great to see them scrubbing a tub? I think it would do them a world of good. If it were up to me, Cirque Lodge would be one big Merry Maids operation, and these spoiled little girls would have to go clean other people\’s houses as one part of their treatment.
i agree…watching the washer is the most relaxing thing…i love it…
*~* :o) always remember to be happy… :o) because you never know who is falling in love with your smile… :o) *~*
for me it is washing dishes. in hot, soapy, sudsy water.
and for the record. i read all of your posts. and now i\’m all caught up. i like your writing. it is clear and concise. like biting into a perfect, crisp stalk of celery.
that\’s right. i compared you to a vegetable!!
I don\’t allow much white in my house. While I could blame the children or the pets, they really just take after me.