It All Comes Out in the Wash

I made a maddening discovery late Sunday afternoon. As I was pulling clothes out of the washer, I heard a thunking noise, like muffled metal, as I tossed an armful into the dryer.

Cue the Dragnet theme.

While moving the clothes around during my search, I heard the sound again, though slightly duller this time. I then felt something the size of a small bar of soap in one of the many pockets of a pair of Eddie’s cargo shorts.

If only it had been a bar of soap. But the object had quite a bit more value than that. It was Eddie’s cell phone. And, of course, all of the power had been washed out of it.

Before starting the cycle, I distinctly remembered fishing the shorts out of the tub – among the towels and boxer briefs, and t-shorts, mostly – and going through the pockets. But these were a new pair that Eddie had purchased at Penney’s the previous day, and I had missed a side pocket designed for the snug storage of a cell phone.

Actually, it probably won’t cost much to replace it. Wireless companies use these devices as a way to drain their customers’ wallets. They make their profits through a variety of “unlimited use” plans. (Don’t ask me for specifics; this isn’t my area of expertise. I am perfectly happy to vent nonetheless.) I generally go bug-eyed when I catch sight of the phone bill. (Fortunately, it’s one of the bills that JoAnna pays.)

Andy always laughs out loud when he checks the detail, what little there is, of my cell number.

“You only used your phone 6 minutes last month?” he noted, incredulously, during his most recent review.

“I’ve never had that much use for a cell phone,” I generally say.

“That’s because you never have it on,” he counters.

Which is true.

For Andy, the monthly meter runs into the hundreds of minutes. Last year, JoAnna had to adjust our plan because of all the text-messaging that Andy does.

Call me old-fashioned, but I don’t understand why people feel the need to have an instant connection with everyone they know. Nowadays, the concept of being unreachable is just plain horrifying to many people – the worst thing in the world.

How did we ever deal with emergencies in the days of the Princess phone?



(If Andy were to look over my shoulder right now, he would have just completed the world’s most exaggerated eye roll.)

When I was in college – uh-oh, here we go, tales from the Stone Age – making a long-distance phone call was a carefully considered act, at least for me. (And I was probably in the minority back then, too.) I don’t think I called home that often – probably not even once a week. Fast-forward to the present. Andy will sometimes call me 3 or 4 times while I’m at work – to the point where I have to tell him to stop. One of his favorite times to call is when he’s walking to and from the UWM campus.

Phonewise, Eddie definitely takes after his dad. Being temporarily without his cell is no big deal for him – hardly an annoyance.

“It’s a piece of crap,” he said, shrugging off the loss with ease. “I need a new phone anyway.”

Andy, on the other hand, would have remained in a state of high anxiety, driving his parents crazy in the interim, until he got a replacement.

In the meantime, I placed a sign on a framed photo collage above Eddie’s hamper: EMTPY YOUR POCKETS. It’s a habit he’s never developed. (But at least he places his clothes inside the hamper.) And what does Laundryman find in his son’s pockets: wallet, loose change, mechanical pencils, hall passes, class handouts, gum.

Apparently, Eddie has nothing to hide.