All These Thrifted Things

Five

Most children grow up experiencing the responsibility of having chores to do around the house. Aggie was no exception.

She kept her room clean (when forced), and swept the kitchen. She knew the importance of a scrubbed toilet and had washed around a zillion dishes by hand by the time she was thirteen. She'd fed cats and hamsters and even chickens during her mother's brief foray into owning — yes, you guessed it — chickens.

Aggie thought back on her time collecting little white and blue eggs with fondness, though she thought the chickens were a bit smelly and she was always afraid they'd peck at her hands (they didn't).

It turned out, as Martha had learned, that free eggs from your own chickens only had so much appeal. They hadn't really used all that many eggs in the first place, and only so many neighbors didn't already have chickens (or family members who had chickens). A gal could only bake so many cookies before she lost interest.

And then there was the unfortunate business with the neighbor's dog. Well. Needless to say, Martha had been heartbroken. She didn't try a second time at chicken farming.

In other words, Aggie had her share of chores growing up. One task her mother hadn't trusted her to learn? Laundry.

Aggie could fold. She could, with supervision, deposit dirty clothes in the washing machine and, following strict instructions, transfer clean clothes to the drier and start the appliance. Folding and putting away was old news.

So when she first moved out on her own, the only problem she faced with doing laundry, was the washing bit. Some things were obvious, like not washing reds with whites. Other things weren't so clear, and Martha hadn't had the patience for teaching.

Thank heavens for the internet. Aggie learned a lot from it. First, that a little laundry detergent went a long way in a single load. Second, that vinegar works just as well as fabric softener, is easier on the environment, and is less likely to clog the machine. Third, she learned "hand wash only" items could sometimes be "delicate cycle" items.

But what was she supposed to do when the draining tube spit filthy water all over the floor?

Aggie gagged. Why did the water smell like that?

She'd heard the splatter sound from down the hall and went running.

"No, no, no!" She lifted onto her tiptoes and stretched toward the pause button on the machine. It whirred to a stop, and the water ceased with it.

"Oh, thank you." She let out a whooshing sigh, but choked when she inhaled again. "Ugh. My clothes."

Was the sludge water inside the basin of the washing machine? She had no way of knowing. Not without looking. She glanced toward the lid.

"No. No I can't bear it."

If the clothes were ruined, that meant the washing machine was broken. If the washing machine was broken, that meant she'd have to buy a new one. If she had to buy a new washing machine... well, it would have to wait, wouldn't it? There were too many other bills to pay. Not to mention rent-

Rent.

Drat. Crap. Drat crap.

She needed to get this place cleaned up; lord knew she couldn't add water damage to her list of sins against Mister Reagan and his suit.

She rushed down the hall and grabbed some old towels out of a storage bin. But they weren't enough, and in a moment she was running to the kitchen cabinet where she kept the paper towels.

Down to three sheets on one roll.

"DRAT CRAP." She all but growled, a few more choice words slipping through.