The Day After

Thanksgiving Day was exhausting. This is not so much why as a holiday it specifically was, but reasons why it wasn't. 

It wasn't the cooking. Steve provided cranberry sauce, the stuffing muffins were done over the two days leading up to turkey day, and the turkey just had to pulled out of the fridge a last few hours to finish thawing before taking the plastic off, rinsing it, and popping the roaster pan in the oven. Sure, I had to change a rack to a different height, big deal. There was no gravy to make, no pinfeathers to remove or tail to cut off with its attending big glob of fat.  Just clear the wing away from the red pop-up-it's-done gizmo, put the lid on, set temp and timer, and sit. Oh yeah, it also was just under a 14 pounder, and the oven is in the wall, so no back strain.

There was no club work to do in the morning, unlike most mornings, especially with the Fall Festival starting Friday. All merchandise going over was already cleaned, sorted, cards written out, and the larger glass pieces bubble wrapped and sent with their stands on Tuesday. Other people put up the tables, organized the cases, etc. My work there will be two short afternoons sitting in front of a box of cards and pulling out the ones for each item sold. Period.  (I always make sure to sign up early for that one, and end of day also means I know exactly how much of my stuff sold.) For the grand finish, I alphabetize the sold-item cards by last name of artist, for the convenience of our club treasurer, so we all can get paid ASAP.

The dog has been antsy in the mornings lately, but much of the duty of sending her out, bringing her in, has fallen on Rich lately. The path rarely is barefoot safe, so... his problem.

What caused the work for the day was laundry. But not for the reason you think, or not exactly. You see, I woke up itchy. 

Yes, the majority of my seasonal wardrobe was dirty, but I had plenty left. And cooler weather (finally!) meant it was time to dig into the heavier clothes anyway. I could easily have postponed laundry. Except I was down to my 4th pair of pajamas, ones I'd pretty much shrunk inside of to the point where they bunched up when I moved in the bed instead of fitting me properly. Wrinkles created pressure points, and those itched. First, the dog had been sleeping snuggled next to me in my bed to stay warm, not at the far mattress corner guarding the door. So the shedding happened next to me, and I'm allergic. My response is to itch, aka dermatographic uticaria, for as long as an hour after I wake up until the allergy pills take effect. In addition, the fitted sheet has stretched from several days use and also provided more wrinkles, aka pressure points. 

When bedding is included, it means two loads of laundry. There were already two loads cycling, both Steve's, one in each machine. So I really got to cycle double duty, and his stuff is heavier than mine because he is already into sweats and long sleeves while I'm still in knee length pants and short sleeves in lighter fabrics. Since Rich was outside and busy, I had to reach down and in the machines to get clothes where needed to be next, and next. It's a twist or three to reach past stuff in front of the dryer door and in to the recesses of the dryer, just because so much stuff is piled and packed close in front of the dryer door, not to mention on top of the dryer so I have to snake around between boxes and bottles to read and push controls. It all uses my bad shoulder, of course. 

It's quite similar using the washer except that's all vertical, so nothing is on top. Except a slanted low roof over both machines, so one can't simply stand up and reach out. It's more like leaning over and crawling back in, except feet stay on the floor. Whoever added the laundry space crammed it in without paying attention to the building codes. Or, just as likely, AZ didn't have decent codes back in '61 anyway so nobody gave a flying *%$&. Then there's hauling clean stuff to respective beds, sorting, and putting mine where it goes. Mostly that means on hangers on a fairly high rod, so... shoulder again of course.

At least after supper, meaning after all the bones are picked and pieces and broth put up in containers in the fridge and garbage out curbside, I got Rich to help me make my bed. It's so much easier with two, particularly the lifting the mattress part. It sometimes has to be repeated when you can't exactly tell which corner of a queen sheet matches the queen mattress. I try magic-marking the corners, but laundering eventually eliminates the ink, and these sheets are as old as this bed is, though otherwise in great shape. The topper - literally - was finally giving in to the season and putting the spread back on the bed, first time since last spring.  It weights about 75 pounds, or so it feels by the time all the rest is done. 

So now I'm ready for bed, right? Except all that late work had stimulated me wide awake. Aching a bit, but awake. Well, then, I might as well sit and write another blog post, right? Maybe with another bite of turkey to keep me company. No! Wait! Ice cream! I need room in the freezer for turkey leftovers. Mmmmm, chocolate cherry nut truffle! Now digging into that doesn't bother the shoulder one single bit.