My Dirty Little Secret

The only way I could post my secret on Frank Warren's blog would be with a photo, which I never could. Never Will. We all have to preserve our reputations in some way...mine is never to open the door to divulge my crisis zone, the causality otherwise known as--the laundry room.

This week the front yards of my neighbors and myself resembles a panicked search for Jimmy Hoffa's body. We have multiple man holes dug up in our yards; the gas company is replacing gas lines. After each dig there is a conference between three employees...then it seems they all disappear, only a piece of plywood remains to trap whatever, or whoever may be lurking in that big hole(s). Although yesterday the positioning of one-man hole gave question to if one of them was trying to take off with my new mailbox.

So imagine this, my man eating pile of laundry on the ground, the racks of clean clothes hanging from rods (that require special talent to weave through and past) to access the back area (which is a mess of old toys and sewing notions) comes a ring at the door from a gas company employee--who wants to access my laundry room to light pilots on my water heater and furnace. YIKES! I was about to plummet into the depths of being mortally humiliated, I was! Princess A and M screeched, "he's going into the laundry room", to which I whispered back dial 911 if we don't return. But, before we reached the vault of sure death I had to race forward to slide the newly heaped pile of smelly laundry from the base of the steps. Then I warned him. He promised me as a gasman he has seen much much worse. I promised him he has not. The entire time I was thinking why did King Ralph have to go fishing this week; if he was home he could have lit all the pilots. I told the gas man I knew what his dinner table conversation was going to be...I could hear it in my head...Oh my gosh you should have seen this ladies laundry room, he assured he would not, I told him he was a liar. We both laughed. Once the pilots were lit and we nearly escaped the man eating pile of dirty laundry I made Mr. Gas Man raise his right hand place it on the bottle of liquid All and promise never to divulge my dirty little secret or, raising the box in my right hand I said or I'll have to Bounce you.

When I escorted him out the front door his co-workers hollered out "don't believe a thing he says" to which I screamed back "don't believe a thing he says."

I think I am in need of a laundry intervention. HELPPPPPP! My name is Keeper and I am a.......