turns out it’s none of the above. it’s the rug i have on my wood floor, and it’s wool comes from a mountain goat or lamb or some sort of unknown animal, perhaps an otter, but it’s hard to know for sure.
and after such a long and hearty winter, it was time to wash my filthy flokati and bring it back into the fresh and clean spring feel now inhabiting the cottage. i researched online and found that the scandanavians traditionally throw it outside on top of a pile of fresh snow and beat it into clean submission with a stick. i then went with the laundromat option, so as to maintain at least some illusion of normalcy with my neighbors for just a bit longer.
i invited my friend m to go on a ‘goat washing adventure’ with me. she was in immediately, as she is up for most anything. and while she wasn’t sure exactly what we’d be doing, she knew that we always have fun doing whatever it might be. upon notifying her family, she was quickly questioned by her daughters, who said they never knew you could wash a rug, and asked why it had never happened in their house. and why it was never going to. i understood this, and if mine was not so ‘pet-like’, it never would have happened in my house either. that settled, we headed off to super sud’s.
all you need:
the flokati, some strong coffee, a bottle of gentle woolite, lots of coins. good company,
and of course, a dog brush.
greeted by the manager, with no bra, a benjamin the dog sweatshirt,
and a personality like a drill sergeant, who told us not to overload, we were warned and ready.
there were so many options, signs, warnings. so much potential for trouble.
so much math.
i should have listened better in school.
more math! and then, not working after all.
but, somehow it had a homey feel about it.
and it had with something for everyone.
the kitchen sink, with notes from mom.
the tech center.
the two odd cousins in the den.
the food and entertainment in the family room area.
the sports memorabilia corner.
the book nook.
here i am, reading and laughing out loud at
‘humor at the speed of life’,
written by fellow blogger, ned, (http://nedhickson.com).
and here is m, after the wash,
fluffing the flokati, with the dog brush,
bringing it back to it’s original luster.
she is taking her job very seriously.
and she is primping and pampering her
like dorothy upon arriving in the emerald city.
and at last, she is a beauty once more.
and after much coffee, many laughs,
more warnings, and a few scoldings from the sergeant,
we are on our way.
and the flokati
is ready to be welcomed back to the cottage,
fresh and fluffy, once more.
whatever it might be.
and now that i look at it,
i think it might be muskrat wool.
“I’ve buried a lot of my laundry in the back yard.”
― Phyllis Diller