Confessions of a new parent: The one about the dryer

The fact that I took a photo of the washer, when the blog post is about the dryer only supports my point about the similarities between dementia & being a new parent.

This one is still a mystery to me. Honestly this must be what it feels like to be on the front end of dementia, which is, I suppose similar to the front end of parenting. Both bring some pretty bewildering circumstances in which you find yourself unsure of the hows & whys.

I ran the dryer for an hour with no clothes in it. This is not an exaggeration, or an implication that I was a few socks shy of a full load (although even six months into this process I can use that visual to describe my mental acuity. or lack thereof.) So the dryer ran for about an hour, completely empty.

It may not seem like much to you, but our dryer has approximately 50 buttons on it, which makes it quite a commitment to turn on. It also makes noises like a slot machine. Thanks to our 3 boys overestimating the value of change, underestimating the size of their pants pockets & my inability to wait for the cycle to end, it will occasionally throw quarters at me. Searing hot quarters. Brings a new & dangerous meaning to the term loose change. 

It was also 45 degrees in the garage when this mystery occurred. How tired do you have to be to leave the comfort of your home & walk into a freezing cold garage to start an empty dryer? I don't like to be cold. Wait, the hot quarters. How's that for positive thinking?

Another somewhat literal hurdle that had to be crossed to turn on the dryer for absolutely no reason is the war zone formerly used as a garage. The only reason there isn't a literal hurdle to cross out there is that they simply do not come on wheels. As soon as they do, I'm sure we will buy one. Or three. Our garage is now the home of every type of wheeled paraphernalia known to man. Or little boys. More on that here. The garage was organized B.C. Before Children. Now it is a disorganized veritable deathtrap of rolling things & white hot flying quarters.

Which makes it even more inexplicable that last winter I went on a suicide mission... braved the freezing temperatures, walked 20 feet across a mine field of potentially neck-breaking skateboards/scooters & risked having President Washington's profile seared into my face... for no reason.

See? I told you it was a mystery.