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What’s In A Name?

Everything I own has a name. And there’s ALWAYS a story behind the name.

Today I’m addressing the issue of my brain. I have a “monkey mind supreme” (think Supreme Pizzas…) and have tried, through the years, (with failures of epic proportions) to tame my mind. I swear, the harder I try, the more it chatters.

I have this vision of a load of stuff in a tumble dryer. Not nicely sorted, oh no. This load didn’t start off with heaps of carefully sorted articles on the floor. Sheets – wash and dry, normal setting; towels – wash and dry, normal setting; whites – wash and dry, permanent press setting; coloreds – wash and dry, permanent press setting; delicates – wash and dry, delicate setting.

No, the whole shebang is in there. Sheets, not only rolled up within themselves but capturing socks and panties and all kinds of smaller items in their sneaky fitted corners; towels, those thick fluffy ones that somehow never get quite dry; so-called “low care” shirts that are so wrinkled you are going to have iron (uggh! and where is the %#[email protected]# iron anyway?); cotton panties that won’t fit a 10 year old, a very scrawny ten year old at that and finally, oh joy, bras that you forgot to put into a dryer sack and have somehow or other managed to twine and twirl themselves around more panties and socks and, well you get the picture.

And that would be my mind. But I’m working on it. In the meantime it needed a name. I ran through the various brands of dryers I know.

Maytag? Rather like that one – sounds sort of Country Club Classy.

Speed Queen? Hmm. The need for Speed. Sounds good.

GE? No, sounds too much like GM. However, GM includes Chevrolet which means Corvette …

Hot Point? Well, yes, one can dream……

Whirlpool? BINGO!

Any better suggestions? And if someone suggests Yoga as a remedy, that will be another story – that is if I don’t come and kill you first. Except for Rope Wall Yoga, of course.

Well, right now Whirlpool and I’m taking a break.

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