We begin in the basement, prepping for the long-awaited delivery of the new washer/dryer. Since the delivery is not expected before noon the Guitar Man and I have time to do some general tidying. We have a finished basement where I have staked out a little space we call the Woman Bar. The WB is the yin to the Man Cave, and I have a wide counter to house my computer (where the blog magic happens) and still have room to fold a load of wash, warm from the dryer. Underneath the spacious counter is a cabinet that holds overflow appliances and serving pieces that are only required for state occasions. However, there is another item that has been safely stowed there. A beloved item, hidden within 6″ of my knee.
Ohhhhhh… you must be wondering what this special item could be. For at least a year, he claims two, my husband has been searching for his digital scale. It’s a sleek scale that weighs up to 150 lbs, and if you are shipping something or even packing for a trip it is important to know the weight of your box/luggage. So for the past year or so the man has been gerry rigging the bathroom scale or extrapolating the weight of an object minus his estimated body weight…. with attendant muttering and wishing for his long-lost scale. He’s an optimist: he has never given up hope that the scale would be found, and every so often a search party would be launched in the garage or the basement to find the scale….. yet the sanctity of the Woman Bar was never breached!
So today, as I’m re-organizing some space in the WB, what do I find? Why, it’s the scale! Resting right at the front of the cabinet. So when I utter, “Is this your scale?” I hear nothing…..just a loud intake of breath– the reverse of a sigh, you might say, and I brace myself:
“HOW DID MY MANLY SCALE GET IN THE WOMAN BAR!!! You must have put it there on purpose…. just to torture me.”
Here is a picture of the scale:
I wash the dirty socks of this fine man, how could he even imagine I would intentionally hide his beautiful and useful scale? And in his defense we did have a good laugh (an hour or so later after he went to fill up my car and get the oil changed.) He also reminds me that he’s been asking me CONSTANTLY if I’ve seen his scale. I guess you could say in my zeal to keep things civilized around the homestead I am guilty of being over-zealous in storage. But when you see my husband please ask him what he had for breakfast that day…. or where his hack saw is. You’ll get a smile and some stalling for time… until he asks me. But you know, we are yin & yang, and the melding of our strengths far outweighs our collective weaknesses.
But now on to the Main Event! They’re here in Old School White, and I’m washing my inaugural load of socks and underwear, watching the spinning and waiting for the dulcet LG chimes signaling it’s time to nestle them into the dryer. No annoying nasally buzzer; the sound is a bit like the Old Spice jingle. I wish I had some installation anecdotes as good as the refrigerator, but these babies just moved into the space of the old tenant machines. I have great respect for the folks who deliver appliances 8 hours/day. They use these nifty “moving straps” to carry these appliances up and down the stairs. It looks easy, but you know that’s just an illusion. What is exciting are the nifty DIY platforms the Guitar Man made last weekend. I painted them a calming blue (with left-over paint from a previous project, of course). Notice how my laundry baskets can be stashed right underneath. Have a look:
But now I realize I have about 1o gallons of the “old” detergent — not the new HE kind this new FL uses. First-world problem for sure.