Mr. Lime has returned from Louisiana bearing his laundry and Diana's (he drove and brought her bags so she didn't have to check them when she flew since the blood sucking airlines now charge for checking even the first bag).
Isaac also had all his camp laundry which had the distinct stench of sweaty 12 year old boy. Any of you who have lived with boys of this age KNOW what I am talking about.
May I say there is a unique and pungent bouquet to BO infused laundry which had previously been washed in what Mr. Lime and Diana describe as "slimy, egg-smelling swamp water." When said laundry has had a few days to ferment inside a suitcase it acquires great power.
When one has roughly 15 loads of sweaty 12 year old boy clothes and BO infused swamp water smelling clothes and linens it begins to permeate one's nasal passages to a great depth.
I just need a name for this new scent.
Suggestions? Anyone? No?
Ok, how about a repost of my expedition to the summit of Mount Laundry then? This is from the very early days of another blog I contributed to long ago.
Scaling Mount Laundry6:43 am
Dawn breaks over the summit as the expedition party wakes at the base of the mountain. There is an excited sorting throughout camp. After a gathering of resources and careful inventory, one intrepid laundress and her Sherpa guide will attempt to reach the peak today. Other members of the party will remain at the base camp.
The path for ascent has been carefully mapped. Failure to follow it exactly could result in failure to reach the summit. The climbers face a myriad of perils even under optimal conditions. Avalanche under a stench of fermented clothes is a very real possibility. Rumblings from the septic system provide an ominous reminder of past attempts that left failed climbing parties to descend in disgrace.
Base camp is established at sheets and towels. Ascent begins. The climb is easy. There is an air of electric thrill......wait, it's just static cling.
The laundress and the Sherpa quickly pass the first tier and easily transition from linens to denims. The terrain becomes more rugged but holds are still easy to find. A patch here or a belt loop there provide the necessary anchors.
The first challenge comes when the climbing team must decide where to cleave the darks. During the planning and prior expeditions it was expected there would be a single tier to scale. The darks are deceptive though. From the ground the climb looks simple and clear cut. Once arriving at this level, the difficulties become more apparent. Prior attempts have been stymied by the arrogant assumption that this level could be taken quickly. The laundress and Sherpa will first ascend the greens, blacks and blues. Upon successful completion and a short break, they will carefully work over reds and tie-dyes.
Elation washes over the 2 climbers as they fold the last tie-dye t-shirt! They press on boldly through the wilds of lights and perma-press. The air begins to clear and they take a moment to regather strength before they require bottled air at the next level.
The pace has slowed. The septic field belches noxious fumes. The division of darks, though necessary, taxes the leeching ability. It is a cost that had to be paid. The septic fumes along with the thin air at the new level require the climbers to begin using bottled air. Here at whites, where sweat socks and underwear abound, the oxygen is as thin as the filth is thick. Climbers who have failed to use air masks have often been overcome. Delirium and even death have hampered the successful ascent of other explorers. Our climbers shall not be so unwise.
The final sock is matched. The summit is in view! Two small sections of delicates remain. At this altitude extreme care is necessary. A misstep could unravel the expedition like a cashmere sweater or a stocking with a snag.
The laundress and her fearless Sherpa guide stand atop the summit. They hoist a flag of bras, staking it firmly to dry in the fresh air that swirls around them. A sense of exhilaration and victory brings tears to their eyes as they survey the neatly folded piles of clean clothes. Not one sock has been lost, no stain remains.
Descent is rapid. Contact with base camp is re-established. Stacks of fresh clothes are distributed to team members. One voice from among the throng is raised and reaches the ears of the laundress.........."You didn't wash my favorite shirt!"