Do you clean your lint filter after each dryer load? I don’t, even though my dad was an appliance repairman and warned me against dire consequences if I didn’t. And even though good friends of ours had a fire in their dryer because of dryer lint, I don’t clean it every load. I clean it every so often — about every 3rd to 6th load unless I wash towels or blankets which give off more lint.
Anyway, a friend of mine told me that when he and his wife moved into their new house the dryer lint filter was packed solid — that the people who owned the house before them had never heard that they should clean the filter after each load. That irked me and now when I don’t clean my filter after each load I feel as if I’m doing something wrong.
In 2000 or 2001 I bought a pair of Stonefly boots at The Sea Captain’s Lady in Geneva, Illinois. These boots changed my life as I knew it. They were the most comfortable shoe I’d ever put on my feet. Slipping my feet into these boots was like getting a foot massage. Walking was deliriously comfortable. They hugged my feet like lovers meeting after a long absence.
I wore these boots for nearly everything, except the most dress-up occasions. When we took a trip to England and Scotland in 2002 I wore these boots and walking was a breeze. My feet never got tired and never ached when I wore these boots.
The Boots in London
In hindsight, I should have purchased several pairs of these boots when I could, because when I began to worry about the day that these boots would wear out, I was too late. Stonefly had quit selling these exact boots. Of course I turned to the Internet to find my Stonefly Gortex ankle boots. I found and purchased a couple of pairs on Ebay, but none were exactly the same — they were all too narrow near the toes and wearing them hurt my feet.
A few years ago I noticed that my boots were splitting at the seams and took them to a cobbler to have them fixed. He sewed them and polished them and they served me well a few more years. Now the seams are splitting again, but the soles have worn so thin I can feel even small pebbles when I walk outside in them. Unfortunately they are not the sort of boot that have the soles sewn on, but are attached some other way (glue? heat?). I could try a cobbler again — I hear there is a shoe miracle worker in Washington DC — but I’m not sure they’d be the same with new soles.
The boots
These boots have taken me to a new job, England & Scotland, Seattle, California, Wisconsin, Illinois, Maryland, Virginia, kids performances, girl scout meetings, wrestling tournaments, and many other places I’ve forgotten. I think it is time they took it easy. I’ve found other shoes that are somewhat comfortable. I’m satisfied with a newer pair of Gortex Stonefly ankle boots — brown this time, but not nearly as comfortable — which took me to Ireland a couple of years ago. I’ve also purchased a fairly comfortable pair of Merrell clogs that I use everyday.
I doubt I’ll ever find another pair of boots or shoes quite as wonderful as my old black Gortex Stonefly Ankle boots. Even Stonefly can’t seem to get it right again. But I’ll keep looking.
Actually I’m pretty much over this issue, but since I had it for so many years, I’ll post about it.
My mom had/has a specific way of folding towels. I’m still not sure if I know how she folds them, but it is something like fold them in half (making sure the tag is inside), then fold them in thirds then in half again. When I’d help her fold laundry when I was a kid and teenager I’d never do it correctly. I tried, I really tried, but never once got it right. Once I came close — and was proud of my accomplishment, but I’d done it backwards and the tag was on the outside. My mom always got upset with me and at least once said she thought I was doing it wrong on purpose.
When I moved out of my parents’ house and was able to fold towels however I wanted to fold them, I still had my mom’s frustration in my head as I’d fold towels. At first I folded them the way I wanted to fold them, ignoring my mom’s voice in my head. Then I tried to fold them like she did. Then I wondered why she folded them the ways she did — after all she’d then have to unfold them in order to hang them on the towel rack. I then came up with my own method: Fold long ways in thirds, then in half or thirds, depending on the size of the towel. There — all I had to do was undo the last fold or two to neatly hang it on the towel rack.
But still, when the time came to fold towels, I got that familiar tight feeling in my stomach — feeling that even though I knew it was silly, there was only one way to fold towels — my mom’s way. And if I didn’t fold my towels that way I was somehow inadequate.
Once, during a parent-teacher conference a teenager’s mother complained that her daughter refused to fold towels the way she folded them and suspected the daughter did it because she was passive aggressive. I sure don’t think I was passive aggressive about the towel folding — I just think it was too complicated for me to remember — and it didn’t make a lot of sense.
My mom and I have since talked about towel folding, and she agrees that my method made more sense. I think she still folds towels her way — and that is fine. I rarely fold my towels the same way twice anymore — now that I use hooks instead of towel racks. In half, in half, in half is fine with me. I think it depends on where I’m storing the towels. I no longer get the tight feeling in my stomach that I did, even a few years ago. Not sure why it went away — perhaps I just figured out how silly it was to still be upset about such a minor thing.
Clutch Cargo Lips 