Oops (Part 999)

Ah jeez. I washed my husband’s pants with the wallet still in the pocket.

‘What IS that pounding sound?’ I remember asking the air halfway through the drier cycle but even then I didn’t get it. I thought there was a sneaker in there or something, but when I looked nope: no sneaker. I slammed the drier door shut and pressed the On button again. 

It wasn’t until hours later when I finally pulled the clothes out to fold and smooth them that I felt something heavy in those pants of his. What has he got, a tennis ball in here?

No such luck. It was his wallet. That which was once a smart and tidy fold of leather now resembles a very small damp badger rolled up in his protective ball.

Meaning it looks sort of …rounded.

And afraid somehow.

Never mind that even today, a full 48 hours after I threw it in that load of wash and soaked the whole thing with the usual slimey shot-glass of Tide, the thing is STILL damp. Oy!

Extracting the items from inside the wallet was a job too. It was like trying to deconstruct a sheet of baklava.

All his business cards. All his careful notes. All reduced to pulp.

I just feel awful.

There’s only one silver lining: His credit cards appear to be as healthy as ever – unless there’s some horrifying truth about the magnetic strip and two hours of Pounding, Rinsing and Roasting on High that I don’t yet know about, please God no. Because after all, even a highly forbearing man has his limits.

And this is that forbearing man. And these are the pants.