Wassi Laundry

Trailer life

Our summer tradition started at Pinery provincial park continued to a new lake.  Just a few miles from Powassan Ontario, was the Canadian shield waterway known as Wasi lake. Wasi Lodge was our new home away from home. By now my mother had enough of us kids and maybe her husband too, the month break was welcomed. It was just my dad, us kids and a couple grand kids. Apparently, my sister needed a break too. Our fourteen-foot Citation was parked on the top of hill overlooking the shoreline.  I wish I could say it was all fishing and fun, but somethings were not fun. Doing laundry, not fun. Fishy, sweaty and soiled clothes filled up the hamper aka green garbage bag. Not fun. There isn't a twist tie strong enough to contain that stink.

A load of crap

Once a week (usually on a Monday) we'd take turns doing laundry. This is the story of one of those Mondays. It was my turn.  The only good thing about laundry day was that I was relieved of my camp cook duties. I think they were tired of my KD surprise anyway. The surprise: hotdogs, hamburgers and occasionally a fresh caught fish. We didn't eat fish very often. In July the bass were wormy, and the perch and walleye were a little finicky, probably due to the fish flies in their full bellies. So, it was no surprise that there was no surprise. 

They called him the streak

There are some items I didn't want to see, let alone touch. My dad's underwear was at the top of the list. Sorting clothes was a shitty job, literally. Sorting through darks and whites was easy enough but some of the whites were brown. Such was the case with my dads shit streaked boxers. I accidentally grabbed his soiled boxers, ate breakfast again, swallowed and verbalized my displeasure “look at this shit, it's shit. I am not cleaning this shit, it's shit" There I was separating the proof in the pudding, the old farts fart-streaked cotton boxers.  Our y fronts paled in comparison. My father started laughing a wheezy laugh. This didn't help my mood much.

 Come fly with me

I carried the bag crap to the laundry room. Along the way the flying insects caught the scent of plastic wrapped shit. Deer flies and black flies began to buzz around my head. A favorite activity even if they didn't get the prize, pissing me off was worth it. The rusty washers and dyers were hidden in a room behind the camp store. The laundry room was a stinking eye sore and I was just one of many unhappy contributors. I swung open the spring-loaded screen door and proceeded towards the top loading washer. The spring door snapped closed behind me, this was meant to distract any incoming flies, but the flies had cousins on the inside. However, most were pleading for their lives stuck to a hanging glue strip. 

Pushing buttons 

I filled the washer with our shitty, stinky, fishy clothes and looked for the proper setting. There was no button for shit-stained undies, so I decided heavy was my only option. I didn’t have any Cheer, but I still gave it my All. Pun intended. The powdered soap was clumpy, and I wondered if it would take care of the dumpy.

 Clean hot and wrinkled

When the laundry was finished washing, I didn't care to investigate, and I just threw it all in the dryer. Folding clothes was not part of the job so, when the drying was done, I just turned the bag inside out a filled it up and headed back to camp. I entered the trailer and dumped the bag out and it was ever man or kid for themselves. It was bad enough I had to do laundry, but I wasn't folding shit.