8 november

With this principle in mind, I unpacked the scarves, gloves, and hats I had brought back with me from Ukraine. Along with my winter coat and boots, these were the few remaining items that had stayed tucked away in my L. L. Bean Giant Rolling Duffle-type Suitcase Bag You Could Fit Someone Into since my return in late July. The waft that accompanied their release wasn’t the smell of Ukraine, nor would I call it exactly ‘must’, but more like ‘must air these out now’.

Having given these items the run of my bedroom for a few hours, I thought they’d have aired their grievances and be ready for society. Not so. My bedroom, instead, grieved. Fine. I bundled up the offenders and marched them downstairs to the basement.

But wait. Could such a variety of items be stuffed into the washing machine? Pashmina scarves from Yemen and India, some with ornamentation? Knitted and knotted scarves with various and infinite loops, gifts of the handmade and irreplaceable sort? What about these gloves, some high-tech and some not-so?

“Put them in on the delicate cycle,” my mom advised.

Mothers. Wonderful.

This morning, I discovered that the cycle in question is called “Delicate/ Handwash”, that it takes 37 minutes to complete, and that its default setting involves cold water.

Whoa.

Handwashing. In a machine.

“What are you doing?” I hypothetically ask my friend in Ukraine.

“Handwashing my clothes,” he hypothetically replies.

“Me, too,” I hypothetically reply, not hypothetically giggling.

“What are you giggling at?” he asks.

“Sorry, you’re hypothetical,” I reply. “Catch you later.”

Rude on my part, but hey, I’ve got laundry to do.