A domestic drama, in five acts.
Preface: On our wedding day, I started calling ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
marphod "spousey" as a term of endearment. So since the obvious plural of "spouse" is "spice," and I contain multitudes (or something), he calls me his spicey in return. Now . . .
SCENE ONE
SPICEY: Sweetie, when you load laundry into the washer, you should really just load it until it reaches the top in a fluffy pile, not compact it down to cram in more clothes.
SPOUSEY: But ... EFFICIENCY!
SCENE TWO
Two years later.
SPOUSEY: Love, I tried to do laundry, but the washing machine stopped draining halfway through a load of clothes.
SPICEY: . . . murgleblurg depression murgleblurg bronchitis murgleblurg . . .
SCENE THREE
One week later.
SPICEY: Hi! Yeah, our clothes washer won't drain. Tomorrow morning would be great!
APPLIANCE DUDE: How long has the water been there, by the way?
SPICEY: Um, it's been a few days.
APPLIANCE DUDE: Just to warn you, it's probably going to smell like someone used it as a toilet once I go in there.
SPICEY: Yay. Well, see you tomorrow.
SCENE FOUR
One hour later.
SPICEY: So, yeah, sorry about the whole "not doing anything for weeks due to depression and sickness" thing. But I called for a repairperson, and I'll make dinner now, and while dinner's cooking I'll remove the clothes that've been soaking in stinky water for a week.
SPOUSEY: Thanks, love. And, um, sorry about not taking care of those at the time.
SPICEY: No worries; it's my fault too for not dealing with it. These things happen.
SPICEY starts pulling stinky, soggy laundry out of the washer, putting it in a bucket, and transporting it to the shower to rinse thoroughly.
SCENE FIVE
Five minutes later.
SPICEY: Sweetheart, darling, beloved love of my life?
SPOUSEY: Oh crap, what did I do?
SPICEY: When you ran that load of laundry last week, by any chance, did you jam in as many clothes into the washer as possible, exactly the way I've told you not to do?
SPOUSEY: . . .
SPICEY: Yeah, well, I tried turning on the washer once I'd removed half the clothes, and it started to work perfectly. Maybe you should stop doing that. Like I told you years ago.
Curtains. Mostly for SPOUSEY.
marphod "spousey" as a term of endearment. So since the obvious plural of "spouse" is "spice," and I contain multitudes (or something), he calls me his spicey in return. Now . . .SCENE ONE
SPICEY: Sweetie, when you load laundry into the washer, you should really just load it until it reaches the top in a fluffy pile, not compact it down to cram in more clothes.
SPOUSEY: But ... EFFICIENCY!
SCENE TWO
Two years later.
SPOUSEY: Love, I tried to do laundry, but the washing machine stopped draining halfway through a load of clothes.
SPICEY: . . . murgleblurg depression murgleblurg bronchitis murgleblurg . . .
SCENE THREE
One week later.
SPICEY: Hi! Yeah, our clothes washer won't drain. Tomorrow morning would be great!
APPLIANCE DUDE: How long has the water been there, by the way?
SPICEY: Um, it's been a few days.
APPLIANCE DUDE: Just to warn you, it's probably going to smell like someone used it as a toilet once I go in there.
SPICEY: Yay. Well, see you tomorrow.
SCENE FOUR
One hour later.
SPICEY: So, yeah, sorry about the whole "not doing anything for weeks due to depression and sickness" thing. But I called for a repairperson, and I'll make dinner now, and while dinner's cooking I'll remove the clothes that've been soaking in stinky water for a week.
SPOUSEY: Thanks, love. And, um, sorry about not taking care of those at the time.
SPICEY: No worries; it's my fault too for not dealing with it. These things happen.
SPICEY starts pulling stinky, soggy laundry out of the washer, putting it in a bucket, and transporting it to the shower to rinse thoroughly.
SCENE FIVE
Five minutes later.
SPICEY: Sweetheart, darling, beloved love of my life?
SPOUSEY: Oh crap, what did I do?
SPICEY: When you ran that load of laundry last week, by any chance, did you jam in as many clothes into the washer as possible, exactly the way I've told you not to do?
SPOUSEY: . . .
SPICEY: Yeah, well, I tried turning on the washer once I'd removed half the clothes, and it started to work perfectly. Maybe you should stop doing that. Like I told you years ago.
Curtains. Mostly for SPOUSEY.