per·ma·nent - [pur-muh-nuhnt]
1.existing perpetually; everlasting, especially without significant change.
2.intended to exist or function for a long, indefinite period without regard to unforeseeable conditions: a permanent employee; the permanent headquarters of the United Nations.
3.long-lasting or nonfading: permanent pleating; permanent ink.
Before I get started, I want to know if I have a case against Sharpie Permanent Markers...apparently, they ain't so "permanent" after all...
Wow...where do I start? My ADD brain is working overtime right now. I have so many things I want to say, but my fingers cannot type fast enough to keep up with my brain, at the moment..."at the moment"? Who am I kidding? My fingers can NEVER keep up with my brain! Anyway, I will try to maintain a logical sequence of events for this one, but there is a very good chance I will stray somewhere along the story line. Wish me luck (and good luck sticking with me, to you).
As you saw, the title of this entry is "Pink underpants." I am 6'3" and I have never thought of wearing anything that slightly resembles pink underpants. Not to say there is anything wrong with that, if you choose to do so, but pink is just not my color. Apparently, my son likes the idea of pink clothing. Well, indirectly, perhaps, but if what he did this past weekend is any indication of things to come, he better get comfortable with pink garments of all sorts.
Let me give you a little bit of background information before we go too far...
As some of you may know, my son (and many Aspie kids) tends to hyper-focus on things that interest him; Star Wars, military, Legos, and most recently Formula 1 racing. On occasion, he will go back to the days of his youth and revisit his obsession with knights. A few weeks ago, he re-examined his desire to draw on clothes (no, not just any clothing...these are designated to be drawn upon) and created a knight's shirt complete with a big red cross on the chest and back. It was an impressive drawing; he stayed in the lines, filled all of the blank spots, and was accurate with the shape of the cross (it looked like a "t" and not a "+"). As with most of his other costumes, it disappeared under his bed, in his closet, or wherever else he decides to toss the things when he doesn't want me to gripe about cleaning up his room. Little did I know, me telling him he would have stairs if I saw any of his clothes on the floor, would lead to pink underwear.
This past weekend came and went, but on Sunday my son impressed me by sorting his clothes (that were all in the laundry basket and NOT on his floor!) without being asked. Nice, neat piles were waiting for me by the laundry machines. As I added my wife's and my clothes to the mounds, the cleansing commenced. I usually double check pockets and color matches, even though my son's sorting ability is normally fairly accurate. I believe I can trace back the timeline of events to this point as being the first bell of class...a lesson I chose to, unfortunately, skip this day.
As with most laundry days, other things kept me from completing that oh-so-fun task in one day. We do not have so much laundry that it would normally take a day or two, but when someone with ADD (me) is trying to finish, it is almost guaranteed to take multiple days...even with just three or four loads. Anyway, Monday (today) comes and everyone is out of the house...which gives me a chance to catch up on things I did not finish during the weekend. I move in to tackle the laundry, determined to get it done before my son came home from school (it didn't happen, by the way).
I opened the dryer, removed the warm and fresh smelling clothes, piled them on top of the bed and began separating the shirts, hoping to minimize the wrinkles. The less I have to iron, the better. When I finished the shirts, I let the rest wait until after I loaded the wet clothes into the dryer and could put a new load into the washer. But, someone had other plans...
I reached into the washer and pulled a few clothes out to throw into the dryer. My mind saw something strange, but could not wrap itself around the simple concept that was placed before my eyes. I continued the action of bending down, removing wet clothes and transferring them to the dryer while my mind continued to process what it was seeing. At first, I thought to myself, "When did I put the reds in the wash?" Then I realized the reds were still piled on the floor, waiting to be washed.
As furious as I was, I was still able to maintain my composure (mostly) and use my super-sleuthing skills to determine which items of garments did not belong in the whites. Needless to say, my son had included his dirty knight's shirt - the one with the permanent red marker - in with the other, all white, clothes. In his defense, the shirt was 90% white...thus his reasoning of it must go in the white pile. Once I found the now pink shirt with the expertly drawn crosses, I removed it rather quickly...okay, fine, I threw it in frustration, but quickly realized it was not the end of the world. Fortunately, only one good shirt was in the load, multiple pairs of socks, and a few underpants.
I stood there, dumbfounded, thinking to myself, "$#!%, what am I going to do now? Mom never told me what to do if something like this ever happened...great, now I have to think for myself...grrrrrr." Apparently, I'm smarter than the average bear...the whites are white again...and the knight's shirt is in a different pile.
--- Update: I guess I spoke too soon...I just took the "whites" out of the dryer...yeah, um, not so white after-all. So, if anybody knows how to get pink out of white and gray clothes, please let me know. Thanks in advance.
When I confronted my son about his error in judgement, he wondered how many steps he had...when I told him, none, because I believe he did not mean to do what he did, he said, "oh, okay, well, I don't mind wearing pink."
On a positive note, October is breast cancer awareness month, so I suppose I could say that we are showing our support to save the tatas. Hmmm...now that I think about it, last Friday my son's school had a breast cancer awareness day...maybe my son planned the pink load after all! Whatever the case, he now knows, and I now know to continue double checking pockets and piles!
Oh, and don't worry Sharpie, I still think you are the bee's knees...even if you really aren't what you say you are! No lawsuit needed...
Disclaimer...(Yes, its a repeat of the last one...but the blog above is new!) First, let me say that I am not a specialist in Asperger's Syndrome, nor do I play one on TV. What I write or say are strictly my own personal observations and beliefs, so please do not sue me because I said something that made you do something that caused a misdiagnosis, or created a problem, or made you do something stupid. Have accountability, go see a professional, and leave my finances alone...besides, you really wouldn't get much anyway, so its probably not worth your time to call the lawyer on the back of the phone book to see if you have a case. Spend that time more wisely, like figuring out how to subscribe to my blog...and don't ask me about that because I'm not even sure how it works! Seriously, though, if some of the things I say seem like they sound very familiar in your family, set up an appointment with a true professional. While you are waiting for their callback, please, continue reading and leave a note!