After returning from my month of parental leave, a crazy whirlwind of activity started. As you may have noticed, this week’s Free Press has a special wildfire issue in it.
Getting that finished meant I was relatively useless in terms of chores around the house (although I’m sure my wife would argue that even under normal circumstances I’m useless at doing chores).
Add on top of this luggage full of laundry that needed to be washed, and it added up to quite the chore list.
To further aggravate things, my wife had been complaining for some time that the dryer didn’t work very well and needed multiple drying cycles to get things even close to dry.
As a final bonus, I’d been short on work-appropriate pants for some time; I had somehow managed to put holes in the knees or crotches of most of my pants. Then the wildfires hit. I moved some burnables away from the house (doing a mediocre job at best) and in the process ruining two of the last pairs of decent pants I had; one pair with pitch coming out of firewood and one by simply ripping out of them.
The combination of these things somehow resulted in lots of laundry being washed and dried but very little being folded.
Consequently, I came into the office with incredibly wrinkled pants. Comparing them to a raisin would have done injustice to the raisin. If I was cool, I could have started a completely new fashion trend entirely by accident.
Thinking about it now, there were, in fact, not one but two ironing boards in my house as I’m storing one for my mother (as they sold their home in Lac la Hache but couldn’t go pick up their stuff themselves). Unfortunately, I didn’t think about that at the time.
Of course, this drew mockery within my office, consisting largely of well-dressed ladies.
In the best news this week, I’m pleased to announce I’ve managed to buy new pants.
On a side note, my wife just texted me that it appears I squished the dryer vent when I installed the dryer and is the culprit of things not actually getting dry.
Now I just need my monthly shower and shave and I’ll be in tiptop condition (provided that I don’t see any pictures of myself come by on Facebook that make me realize I need a haircut).