Story of the Day 5/13/2011 #2

In addition to learning to cook and clean bathrooms for his future wife, my 20-year-old son is doing his own laundry.

While he likes pink and looks fairly good in it, his previously white shirts were not a nice uniform pink but rather a splotchy design of red, light pink, dark pink and not quite white, after he had laundered them. So, after doing this to every white shirt that he owned, he finally learned to separate the darks from the lights. This doesn't mean that he has learned to iron or any of the finer points like... dare I say it... ”hand washing”, but he is generally quite capable of looking and smelling presentable, if a tad wrinkled.

This afternoon, he asked me, since he was running low on time, if it was all right to dry the darks and lights together. After telling him, “yes!”, I hear an anguished scream echoing from the bowels of the laundry room.
I yelled, “A pen, did you run a pen through the laundry?”
Okay, he hasn’t quite gotten the “check all the pockets before laundering” bit down, yet.


But, no, it wasn’t a pen.
Aaron, with a look that reminded me of a small boy whose dog had just died, held out his hand. In it were two very wet hearing aids.

I suppose this means that Sarah will have to interpret for him at synagogue, tomorrow.