When Spring Cleaning Goes Full Dick Van Dyke

 

If you were ever a fan of the old Dick van Dyke Show, you'll undoubtedly remember the episode where Laura, dying of curiosity, opens a mysterious package belonging to Rob, only to discover it's an inflatable boat. The visual of that thing exploding across the room, combined with Mary Tyler Moore's exquisite humiliation, is comedy gold.

 

Welp, last week I lived my own Laura Petrie moment. I’ve never been what you’d call a meticulous housekeeper, but this spring something in me snapped. I’ve been on a cleaning tear: shoving furniture around, second-guessing its placement, shoving it back again, scrubbing walls, baseboards, floors—you name it. In a fit of fresh-start zeal, I decided everything on the bed had to be washed. King-size duvet? Done. Regular pillows? Fluffed and fresh. Even the decorative ones got the treatment.

 

 Feeling bold, I moved on to the three big European square pillows that line the back of my bed. I’ve washed king comforters in my large washer plenty of times, so I figured one pillow at a time would be no problem. The care tag said something about “commercial machines,” but… details.

 

I popped the first pillow into the washer on the bulky setting with warm water and let ‘er rip. About halfway through the cycle I noticed the machine was working awfully hard. When the cycle ended, I opened the lid and—this thing had inflated like a parade balloon. It was wedged against the lid, swollen with water, and looking positively indignant.

 

 I managed to wrestle it out, but it immediately doubled in drama. So, on a bright sunny afternoon, I carried this dripping, overinflated monster out to the deck for some emergency wringing. My grip strength isn’t what it used to be (thanks, dotage), so after a couple of half-hearted squeezes I grabbed it by the corner and gave it a good swing to shake out the excess water.

Big mistake.

 That pillow took flight like a NASA reject. It sailed off the deck in a perfect arc and landed squarely in my neighbor’s yard. I stood there, mouth agape, watching it lie there like a beached whale, leaking water into their grass. Thank heaven they weren’t home. The sheer mortification of anyone possibly witnessing my domestic disaster was enough to make me consider moving.

 I did eventually rescue the runaway pillow (and yes, I washed the other two with extreme caution). But I’m now seriously rethinking my future pillow-washing strategy.

Moral of the story: Spring cleaning is dangerous. Curiosity and large absorbent objects don’t mix. And if you ever see a random European pillow in your yard… you’ll know who to blame.

 This story is part of my series Life on Planet Pattie, about the foibles of life, resilience, and the occasional furniture-moving adventure. It appears the first Monday of every month.

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