The Table

I always seem to have too much laundry.
It piles up in weird places. Almost daily, I will notice a pile at the end of the hall and then another little one in the bathroom.
Bathroom little piles do not bother me. People who come over, can see a small laundry pile in there.
But in case they do come over, I take the time to fold it all. Instead of just throwing it down my basement stairs.
I can find more piles in my room, the kids room's and the living room. Although clothes in my kitchen do happen, it is a very odd and rare occurrence. I always have to think about why the clothing is in the kitchen. Even if I did it. I am always puzzled to see it.
I keep these piles around my house, and will even create some, on purpose.
In case I need a breather. I need these at least once a day. For one of a thousand different reasons.
I will grab one of these laundry piles and take it downstairs.

A few months ago, I got the thrills of lending my basement to my friend, Wendy, for storage.
Now, I am a nice friend. I did not charge her a penny.
And I did real well for about a week. I did not go down there to look at her stuff.
But there comes a point in time, where if you do not do something, someone might be getting a free large pizza for taking you into the local psychiatric ward.
I went to take a look. A good one.
The next day, there was a man at my house and I ordered him as to what I wanted brought up. A beautiful glass and wooden cabinet and a half moon, behind-the-couch-in-the-soap-operas table.
I stole her bath mats, too.
Then I called her.

"Hey, Wendy," I said.
"Hey," she answered.
"So, I brought some of your stuff upstairs."
"Oh?"
I told her.
"Well...," she sighed. "Don't wreck it."
"Shut-up," I laughed. "It is too nice to be sitting in my damp basement."
"If your basement was damp."
"I am free storage," I threatened.
"You are my friend."
"I am nosy and I liked it."
"Don't wreck it."

I have since offered her money for her stuff. I have also tried to bribe money from other people so I can offer her larger sums. She really likes her stuff.

On a laundry trip to the basement, back a few months ago, I noticed Wendy's kitchen table. I pulled two of the wooden chairs from the table top and sat with my feet up. And it felt good.
I went back upstairs.
I started to do it all the time.

Suddenly, I experienced an increase in laundry and I was not too happy. With myself.
That damn kitchen table.
I wanted to sit there so bad, I just started throwing the laundry beside the washer on my way through.
One time, I caught myself down there five times in one day. Not doing laundry.

Wendy came two weeks ago to move her stuff. She was moving 45 minutes away. I had spent the night before saying good-bye to the glass cabinet and the half-moon table. They were so beautiful. And so not mine. It was breaking my heart.
When the basement became almost empty, Wendy came up to me. "We will have to come back for this stuff upstairs and the fish aquarium after we drop this off."
"Okay," I said.

"Beth," Wendy called a few hours later. "We are all too tired to come get the rest of the stuff tonight. We have agreed here, to do it in a few weeks."
"For real," I said, excitement in my voice. Yea! A few more weeks to think of ways to con these wonderful pieces out of her!
"Yeah, because, well...Thanks for letting me keep everything there so long."
"I enjoyed it," I said.
"I know," she said.
"You still coming next week for the night?"
"Yep."

I was in the basement the next day, with a load of whites in my hand looking at my basement. Wow. It was big.
And I had nowhere to sit. I tried my grey steps. Oh, they sucked so bad.
I got up and did a load of laundry.
Sigh. Silly me. I had been saying good-bye to the wrong things.

I miss you, Wendy.