I got home from a swim meet last night around 9:00, which is late for me because I usually go to sleep around 10:00. After 30 minutes or so of watching TV and hanging out with my wife, I started getting ready for bed. I found my jeans (Friday is jeans day!) in the dirty hamper and guess what? They were dirty. The question presented itself: were they stinky enough where I couldn’t stand to wear them? I wore some super smelly jeans with melted-turned-dried whip cream all over them the other day and withstood it – barely. In the end, stinky-ness beat laziness 51% to 49%. It was a close race and laziness put up a good fight, but good old Stinky just has more of an in-your-face campaign.
I put them in the washer and went on to the worst five minutes of my day, every day – getting ready for bed. I hate it, so I brush my teeth as fast as I can, nearly poke my eyes getting my contacts out because I’m doing it so fast, and go into a full body flex, nearly straining every muscle in my body, to urinate with max power and pressure.
After I finished those chores, I checked on my jeans – still washing. Oh yeah, it only takes 5 minutes for me to get ready for bed. Not wanting to get too comfortable, I sat up in bed and watched TV with my wife for a minute. That’s not an expression, a minute; I got up after one minute to check on the progress. That didn’t help but moving the washer knob over a little bit did! Do I really need 5 minutes of rinse? This exact process continued every minute until the knob was pointed to the end of the cycle. Success! I washed my pants in 12 minutes. I pulled them out and gave them a once over to see if there were any remaining suds. Diagnosis: negative. Into the dryer, they went. I could just grab them in the morning and be on my way.
I went to bed and got into a nice, deep sleep. <Chink> Heart rate increasing. Is someone trying to break in? <Chink> Sweat forming. Is it a serial killer trying to get in? <Chink> Anus apucker. I need to wake up Wife. She’ll protect me. <Chink> Adrenaline induced lucidity. Oh, I bet that’s the sound of the metal button on my jeans hitting the inside of the dryer as they tumble around. I got up to check and I was right. I got back in bed and closed my eyes, and all I could hear was the same noise. It would stop for 4 seconds or so then start up again, which I couldn’t take. I pulled the jeans out and hung them up. They’ll be dry in the morning I thought.
Well, I wore pants with a sopping wet, pelvis area all day. Wet enough where my underwear was wet too. I was nervous all day that someone would sit in a chair after me and feel the moisture of the watery butt print I left behind.