Happy New Year! Today we kick-off 2012 with a guest post from our sponsor … my husband … and the man who funds this thing called our home. Enjoy!
I grew up in the 1960s in a house full of women. All I knew of or cared about napkins were the ones set out at meals, either the paper ones on weekdays in the kitchen in front of the 13-inch black-and-white Sony, or the cloth ones on the Saturdays and Sundays when we all sat at the dining room table. So imagine my surprise and later regret when somehow I poked my little hands into the wrong place in the wrong bathroom and discovered a package labeled “Feminine Napkins.” Huh? Since when did girls and boys need separate napkins?
Fast forward through times as a young man when I used all types of napkin-ish devices, including paper towels, the back of my hand, shirt sleeves, the shirt sleeves of my friends, what have you. No longer, though. Today my home has proper napkins. Really nice ones, ones that have numbers, and ones that, after washing and drying, need to be folded so their numbers show. Yep, I do some laundry.
Odd enough that our napkins have numbers (“Do you want to be 3 or 47 tonight?”); odder yet that I needed to ask Linda for help in learning how to lay them out and fold them on the half, then on the sort-of-thirds, in the right sequence for their ultimate conclusion – soft, thick, dropcloth-quality napkins that are stenciled with numbers like sacks of potatoes that were shipped to the U.S. troops headed across Germany in the winter of 1944. (“Odder Yet” seems like it could be my DJ name on an Amish radio station – if there was such a thing. Can the Amish broadcast via lantern power?)
The napkins with numbers are great, a really creative idea, sturdy and comfortable and absorbent –the ultimate test of a napkin, right? – and we all have fun with them, arguing with laughs over who gets which napkin and whether it’s good to have a high or low number.
P.S. From Linda: Ladies — and gentlemen — he’s being modest. My husband does all the laundry in this house.