Folding

When we first started dating my husband had been laid off in the dot-bomb era. Last hired, 1/3 of the company let go and the board met and left the agenda on the white board and the last item was “fire staff.” That was a Friday afternoon and everyone bit their nails through the weekend. Layoffs were the following Monday.

He folded his tent and met me a few weeks later, after 9/11. We dated for three weeks and he folded again to go back to the ranch as he had been there a short time, was paying for a crummy hotel and was running out of money.

Two weeks later he was back with a new job. An old neighbor asked why he moved back. He looked at me and said, “her.”

He looked after a relative’s place while they were traveling for a few weeks, then one day I was helping out a neighbor walking their dog and I found a place 1,000 feet from my place (through the bushes) and he called and got it. We now call it the “Barbie House” as there were so many stairs it was ridiculous. I’d go over there and cook lunch for him.

He wanted a washer and dryer so we shopped one weekend and he found quality used appliances with the caveat that I could do my laundry there if I did his as well. That saved me a trip to the laundromat.

He saw me folding his undershirts one day and marveled at my speed and near accuracy. Folding. We folded our homes together when we married and even moved into the Barbie House for a while.

Now, we’re mobile, sort of. Years ago he used 3 linear feet (the minimum) in a truck. Later in the same type of truck after marriage we took 12 linear feet (we actually had some furnishings and my kitchen, dining and office furniture and his computers). Now we would take the entire truck. We still haven’t folded our lives together as there are still a few boxes and stuff in storage but we live in a large space for our needs that is considered a small space. It’s just us and a dog, our old Zoe. A bedroom, office, open K/D/Living is fine with two baths.

I know how to break down and fold boxes then resuscitate (tape) them for moving. I know how to fold napkins for dinner parties.

If I make the egg whites for fluffy pancakes, my husband now knows how to fold the whites into the batter. I taught my nephew years ago how to fold blueberries into batter. I used a battering ram and a castle (he was seven) for the concept for post-Thanksgiving breakfast muffins. One wants to fold in the blueberries, not batter them.

Years ago, knowing we were supposed to be mobile, except for furniture and books, I started getting a folding guitar stand, everything on a smaller scale and portable. My keyboard and stand are portable, folded.

Now I have everything with a different colored and labeled tag system including what to place in the cars, and destination by room for all in the truck. I believe we have every box a laptop or printer or TV arrived in with all the packaging, all in storage.

Is ironing considered folding? We bought the latest model of my aunt’s iron years ago. She gave me linen towels she found at estate sales. My mother-in-law, knowing she was going in for knee surgery, spent six weeks off her feet. I know she took care of their food for that time but she bought fabric and embroidered six hand towels for me, all herbs. They are hanging on a decorative rack.

I keep them clean, ironed and folded. When I tried to use them for guests at several dinner parties I was the only one who used mine. Why? They’re too nice to wipe my hands or mouth. Me! I launder, hang dry and iron every one. You are our guest. It’s my job as your hostess.

Now they are up on a pretty rack and next dinner I have bandannas and we can have Texas chili! Of course the new bandannas will be laundered, hung to dry, ironed and folded. Gotcha, then they’ll be too nice to use. How about a roll of paper towels? I’ll fold them. Cheers! Dee

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