Due to the United States Army's meticulous pracitice in all areas regarding soldier training, I learned to fold laundry the military way. I grew up under the care of a momma that neatly folded our clothes and placed them in drawers in an orderly fasion. My mother refused to send her kids to school in clothes that looked like we slept in them. However, I did not learn this art until basic training at Ft. Benning, GA. Thanks to Uncle Sam I earned laundry duty when I got married (my wife never went to basic training... enough said).
I usually retreive the clothes from the dryer and place then on our couch to be folded shortly thereafter. Every item must be folded in a certain fasion, no exceptions. Unfortunately, Ozzy finds the warmth and scent of the freshly washed and dried clothes irresistable, and I often find him huddled just under the top layer in a little brown ball. He receives a scolding and a gentle nudge in order to discourage him from climbing back into the stack. He resorts to stealthy techniqes to avoid detection, but ultimately gets caught and scolded every time.
Today he determined that he would get away with his laundry rebellion by devising a getaway scheme to avoid detection. After washing a today's load and placing them on the couch, I went outside to check the mailbox. When I came back into the house I took a headcount to make sure none of the canine faction sneaked outside behind me. Ozzy was missing, so I began looking for him and calling his name. It was a moment later I witnessed what some would describe as a miracle... a pair of shorts rising from the dead linen pile and sneaking down the hallway by themselves. Of course, Ozzy was attached to this wonder wear, but he could not be seen until the shorts were pulled away. A brilliant manuever by a truly resourceful adversary.
He did not receive a scolding this time. His getaway shorts saved him, and provided me with a much-needed laugh.
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