Suds

Something about my upright clothes washer caught my eye.  Too much white, I thought when I glanced though the washer’s glass door.

A few minutes earlier, Desiree had tossed a pair of pair of padded covers for our outdoor deck chairs into the machine.  To confirm what I suspected I was seeing, I fished my smarter-than-me-phone from my pocket, tapped the flashlight icon, and swept a beam of light into the washer.

The washer was overfilled with a churning ball of fine white foam.

“Desiree,” I called out, “what kind of soap did you use in the washer?”

She had originally scrubbed the covers outside on the deck using a hose and various cleaning agents. 

Desiree soon appeared beside me. “Did you use dishwashing soap in the clothes washer?” I asked.   I trained my flashlight on the spinning mass of suds inside the machine one more time.

Her eyes widened.   “I was using dishwashing soap outside because laundry soap wasn’t making suds,” she admitted.

I laughed.   “Well, it makes too many suds in the washer.  I made the same mistake once.”

Many years ago, while living my bachelor life, I tried dishwashing soap in the clothes washer.   At the time, my roomy and I were out of laundry soap and I subscribed to the theory a lot of dish soap would be required to wash a big batch of clothes.

When I went to pull my clothes from the washer after a half-hour or so, I found suds piled on top of and all around the machine.  Not a few suds.  A lot of suds.

Thinking about my own misadventure with dishwashing soap, I hugged Desiree.  “We have all been there, dear,” I assured her.  “At least it’s a clean mistake.” 

   

Suds Remaining After the Full Wash and Spin Cycle

—Mitchell Hegman