This down jacket is twenty years old
#1
And, twenty bucks is, what it'd cost to have it cleaned. So, I ran the tub in the motel, full of hot water, and poured in a cap of detergent. And, scrubbed the outside, with my little brush. And, then just agitated, and agitated. And then, rinsed, and rinsed. And then, took the little suitcase rack and, leaned it in front of the heat pump. On high heat. For a few hours. And, for twenty bucks, they couldn't have made this old thing look any better, than I did, with some soap, and a half hour's work. And, now, my room is strewn with the rest of my laundry. There's another ten bucks saved. And, everything looks better than the rusty water of Picket Creek left it.
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#2
I'm putting the washing machine on the same heap, that I put the dishwasher on. I can wash my dishes, and have them drying in the rack, about as fast as, it takes to get them ready, and in that silly machine. I don't waste a drop of water. I don't burn a watt. And, my dishes are clean enough to suit a severely anal, inspector. And, here's a space for a cabinet, that I can stuff, with things I use.
I never thought, about the washing machine. That was my ex's end of the business. And, she did loads. But, I don't think I'm gonna be doing loads. Just enough to be worth filling the bath tub, in the Itasca (This motor home is a pretty sweet unit. I couldn't really trade up). And, scrubbing the bad spots. And agitating the negative. With a jug that says fifty loads (But, maybe half that for me). Or, maybe, twice that. And, anyway, when that's empty, I'm getting a box of something good (And, cheap). I killed time, today, doing my wash in the motel room. Just, this way. And, The whites are whiter. The brights...who knows? It works real nice, with a heat pump blowing hot air. But, I hung my wash out in the snow, at Ash Valley. To at least drip dry. I was going to put a clothes line in at Pickett Creek. A pine post in a Gothic cross form. Three pulleys! Now, maybe one, off my awning. And, I could never hang my delicates out. Because, they're way past that.
A dose of poverty, has sort of cleared my head. Finding comfort in a situation of suddenly diminished means, sent me for a spin. But, pretty soon, I'll be able to stare apart a Gordion Knot. "The simple kind of life, never did me no harm" (Denver at his best), and, what I'm figuring out, is that I have been harmed. Looking back, it seems like I sort of begged for it. And, I'd learned better, from people who wrote books about better. I kind of went along, for a ride. I always did the garden and the DIY stuff. But, I never really took my world apart, to see what it was costing me. Your best defense in this life is not a gun. It's a gram scale. Doper's learned, long ago. Everybody's learning now. If they're smart. It's a shame I get smart, as a senior citizen. I dug myself a soft spot, in God's fat little pocket, and Rip Van Winkled away. I'm the guy who's gonna' show James, how the world works. And, I just came to some new realizations. But, maybe we'll be as lucky as we were, with the driving test. Count every creamer in your coffee (I'm filling the air pot once a day. So, I can fill my cup with Columbian). I'll be off food stamps, this summer. And, fat and happy, when I leave your care. And, hopefully, in a better frame of mind, to work in my own cause. I might not have been my own best friend. You should wonder, if you are yours.
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