War, like laundry, is hell

What I can’t understand about the Japanese is their need to kill themselves when they suffer a military defeat.  As General Kuribashi said, how can I plan a strategy like this?  He had a point, there was no possibility of defeating, or even really delaying the American capture of Iwo Jima; he was out numbered, out gunned, and had neither ships nor planes, but every time an area was over run and he tried to pull his troops back to reinforce the remaining positions under his control, a wave of suicides would break out, driven mainly by the office classes, which would mean the near total loss of all the troops in the over run area.  This is what I learnt whilst doing the ironing.  Combining ironing and war films while Lottie and Araminter sleep is an activity I have added to my repertoire lately.  So far I’ve covered Clint Eastwood’s Iwo Jima epics, revisited The Hurt Locker and think either Blackhawk Down or Where Eagles Dare next.

Now that I have a baby, and if you’re a new father reading this, now you have a one too, laundry is a big part of life.  We have two laundry baskets, one in our room, one in Araminters.  Hers fills up really quick, as first it’s much smaller, and second it has to deal with routine and emergency changes of clothes, towel and blankets.  I have put at least one load of washing on each day since she came home, some times I manage three in a day, but only if I get the clothes drier totally optimised.

You see, the main roll of the man in a new family is logistics.  If it’s empty we fill it, if it’s finished we throw it, if it’s on the floor we pick it up, and if it’s dirty we wash it.  I happen to think that is probably the ideal task for most men.  We like to think we’re good at logistics; it requires planning and forethought.  We’re like a great general, balancing and weighing many competing demands, seeking the ideal compromise between operations of varying priorities; it’s an intellectual task and is certainly not house work.

My drive to keep up with the laundry was so effective that I decided to overtake and stay ahead of it.  I would empty both of the baskets and keep up them almost empty, indefinitely!  This plan was simple; I would create multiple pre-sorted piles of clothes.  One would always be in the washing machine, one next to it to go in and a third ready to be mined as soon as the change over in the kitchen had occurred.  The frame for drying the clothes on would have to be run with ruthless efficiency; there could be no room for mercy or favouritism.  Wet clothes would be hung at the top, well spaced for quick drying, then moved down in to denser configurations as they dried, before being pushed to the airing cupboard as soon as they were ready.  Unfortunately I had over looked the one weak spot.  After three days the airing cupboard had became an explosion risk, so packed was its interior.

The ironing, I had totally over looked the ironing, and since Lottie had always done it before and I was a novice I would have to tackle this self made mountain slowly, and alone.  Like Operation Market Garden, my plan lay in ruins.  I had totally over looked the Panzer Division parked just down the road (I think Bridge to Far has to go on the viewing list now).  I had became bogged down and thoughts of one great push to victory became ever more distant.

My parents had offered a tumble drier for Christmas.  We’ve never had one I said, and where would we put it?  We just air dry things, I added.

I should have held out for the tumble drier.