I had to do some laundry yesterday. (When don’t I have to do laundry? Two women do seem to go through an awful lot of underwear and socks …)
My washer and dryer are those stackable ones, stashed in a closet upstairs. The floor underneath is not quite level, so one day when PG was around with his masculine strength, I got him to tip the machines up slightly and I wedged a piece of wood beneath one corner to straighten them out a bit. It works well enough that the door to the dryer doesn’t usually swing shut of its own accord any more.
But sometimes it does. And sometimes it bonks me on the side of the head – gently, but a bonk nonetheless. I generally curse at it when this happens, and move it back to the fully open position with some force. Not too much force, of course, because it will just swing back at me harder, but I do want it to know that it has behaved badly and that it should never do this again.
Yesterday, though, I had a bit of a brain fade with that dryer door. I had just finished piling the contents of the washer into the dryer, so my head was right beside the open door. In fact, it was almost in the dryer. I started to pull myself back so I could shut the door and start the dryer.
I didn’t move fast enough. I whacked my own self in the jaw with the dryer door.
Yes, it hurt. Yes, I cursed.
And yes, I’ve just come back from the chiropractor because today my neck is out so much that I can’t turn to the right without pain.
I think it’s time that DD did all the laundry all the time around here. It’s too dangerous for me.