It’s Saturday, and in a fit of domestication to which I am sometimes prone, I spent the day cleaning the mansion. This included laundry, which happens to be my least favorite chore because I hate the back and forth and the folding, but also because it takes so darn long to finish.
Now, I am not at all a fashionista and would be perfectly happy wearing the same three shirts day in and out, and yet our collective mountain of laundry seems enormous enough and takes all day to clean. This is because my Japanese washing machine has the capacity of a juice cup compared to American-sized washing machines. And while I made a resolution to take better care of my things, including my clothes, this year, I find that any adhering to any particular washing settings will have to wait until a more English-speaking washing machine presents itself to me. Our washing machine is just one more example of functional illiteracy smacking one in the face during the course of the day.
Even the little sheet of paper designed to translate the buttons into English offers tidbits of wisdom such as “Six courses can be selected according to the type of laundry and level of dirtiness,” but it doesn’t bother to tell me what those courses are. Nanny nanny boo boo, Gai-jennie, I have many selections but you will never discover what they are, because every time you play with the settings I will beep and refuse to function. But I got the basics down – power, water, start – and this has served me well in our mansion. I just look forward to the day when I return to a washing machine that allows me to wash more than three bath towels at a time.