Tuff Enuff

You’ve all seen those labels on clothing, right? Handle with care. Dry clean only. Delicate cycle. Don’t put in dryer. Hand wash in mountain stream water with goat’s milk and lavender soap procured from a wood nymph. On and on.

Fuck that.

The other day I realized I’d accumulated a pile of stuff that wasn’t supposed to go in a commercial washer and threw it all in there anyway. Lacy bras. Silky undies. Dry-clean only pants. A delicate sweater set full of sequins. The flimsy costume I wore to RenFaire. All tossed in the washer AND the dryer. I hate hanging stuff on my shower curtain rod waiting for it to dry. Makes me feel like I’m in my nauseatingly rose-perfumed grandmother’s apt back in Queens.


And the clothes all survived just fine.

I praised the items for being tough. If you live with me, you gotta be tough. You gotta have claws and teeth and be willing to use them. I’ve been through a lot of shit the past 10 years and I don’t have any patience for gentle flowers who need to be handled carefully.

If you can’t deal with the rough spin cycle followed by blasting heat, then get the hell out.

And don’t expect me to be nice to you afterward. If you’re all shredded up and wrecked by my methods, then into the trash basket you go. 🙂

5 responses to “Tuff Enuff

  1. I don’t think we’re talking about clothes here anymore, are we?


  2. There’s definitely a hand wash joke in here somewhere.


  3. Better late than never, girlfriend! Maybe it started with having an almost (except for kitty) empty nest and being able to concentrate on what makes Paula happy?! So happy for you and enjoying vicariously, too. After all, that’s what friends are for, n’est-ce-pas?


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