Have you ever forgotten to do something before work? Like, wash your work clothes?
Being able to read my many books is becoming increasingly difficult. In fact, I haven’t been able to read them at all. Everything is becoming one big blur, I keep getting frustrated by not being able to see clearly. Mother envisioning me walking into a doorway or wall think it’s funny.
All it does is hurt my emotions enticing me to become irritated. However, I say nothing because we live under her roof. It is rather funny if you think about it. Not quite a first but later it will be.
All it does is hurt my emotions enticing me to become irritated. However, I say nothing because we live under her roof. It is rather funny if you think about it. Not quite a first but later it will be.
Yesterday, Mother had guests over all afternoon and evening. While I tried to relax in silence, I hear the laughter and intermingling of guests, while the sounds of tiles are being shuffled around their brand new eight foot, cherry, oblong table. I knew what game they were playing, Rummikub.
It was a rather familiar game that Mother taught me before. Nevertheless, I couldn’t remember how to play. The doctor educated me on Pseudotumor Cerebri; it can cause temporary memory loss, headaches, nausea, disorientation, blurred and double vision. This eye-opener told me that I had to prepare myself for such occasions. I decided to start a journal. It first started with writing everyday tasks such as writing my feelings, thoughts, and events that occurred throughout the day. Little did I know, my writing would start to improve over time.
While I sit in my little green comfy chair, in the corner of the bedroom, I continued to listen in on the commotion in the other room. As the sounds increase, so does the pain in my head, ringing in my ears, and lightheadedness. My husband mentions to me of the laundry out in the car, and that it needed to be done before work tomorrow. He didn’t want to disrupt their social gathering by the repulsing smells of fish and body odor. Him and I both had some downtime until after their social gathering to wash the clothes. Afterall, working in the fish business is a smelly job but my husband loves it.
It was around 7 or 8 o’clock in the evening and Mother’s guests were leaving for the night. While listening to one of my usual TV Shows, Frasier, I hear the groans and grumbles from the bed of my husband’s slumber. He had fallen asleep before doing his laundry.
1 AM rolls around, my husband awakes from his slumber. He realizes he had fallen asleep before doing his laundry. Everyone in the house is asleep, silence is the key. He got up from the bed, creeping quietly through the house sliding the screechy back door, and out to the car to retrieve his stinky work clothes. He returns with the clothing and heads straight to the washer to wash his clothes. As he opens the lid to the washing machine, the sounds of the washer start to go off like a musical, however, as brief as the musical washer was, it was rather loud and annoying. He loads the washer with his clothes, adding the fabric softener, laundry detergent, shuts the lid and starts it. Not five minutes after the washer starts to run the sounds of Mother’s wheelchair starts to arise.
Mother wheels herself out of her bedroom, rather angry and pissed off for being woken by the sounds of a washing machine. My husband knew he didn’t have a choice in the matter, and he wasn't trying to deliberately wake anyone but he did. But, the laundry needed to be done, showing up to the place of employment with stinky, dirty clothes on, isn’t exactly appealing to an employer. I awake to hear my husband rumbling around, I ask softly from under the warmth of our bed, “Is everything o.k.”? “I woke your mother up, she looks pissed. I didn’t mean to wake her. I have to get these clothes washed.” He shuttered. I sighed as I slowly sit up from where I laid and uttered him over to me. I gave him a warm kiss, told him to apologize to her for waking her before he leaves and all would be forgiven. “She knows you need clean clothes for work” I whispered. He smiled and kissed my forehead, left the bedroom to acquire his now clean clothes from the washer and places them in the dryer. Thirty minutes go by and the sounds of the dryer's alarm are going off, the clothes are done. He opens the dryer door, pulling all his work clothes out and wraps them up in his arms. Walking quietly back to the bedroom with arms full of clothes, he drops them onto the bed. He starts to fold the clothes, I glance over at him, “Put on what you need and we’ll take care of the rest of them later”, I said.
He nods and puts on the clothes that he needs, gives me a kiss, grabs the keys, and heads out to leave for work. Before leaving the house, my husband consequently apologizes to Mother for waking her and awaits for the disastrous conversational exploitations to come. In anger, Mother lashes out and yells, “you are not to do laundry at 1 AM again, do you hear me?!”. His emotions and facial expressions are surrounded by shrouds of guilt and shame, “Yes Ma’am, I’m sorry again for waking you, it won't happen again”, my husband leaves the house for work.
She is right in a way that he should have waited to do laundry, or done them before bed. However, he didn’t have a choice, he has to get up and go to work at 1 AM every morning. He fell asleep and I am unable to see clearly enough to walk in a straight line, let alone, do laundry. I felt terrible and angry at myself for not helping him. He is the only one in the house right now working but he needed to have the clothes done.