Strange things to do on a Tuesday night...

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

Removing about a pound of lint from the clothes dryer and exhaust hose.

Living in a condo, does not allow for much space. The apartment that myself, wife and kidlet are in, doesn't have a laundry room, so much as... laundry closet. Standard sized dryer and washer have about an away from each other and another 2 inches away from the walls. So in order for me to get to the back of the dryer, I have to pull the dryer out of it's spot, thus dividing the laundry closet into quarters. I have to crawl across the top of the washer, then contort my body so I don't slam my head and/or scrape the top two layers of skin off my face or chest. If I were Jackie Chan, I could do a forward diving flip and land neatly into that spot.

Once I'm back there, it's one of those kind of jobs once you start it, you want to finish it. So got the tools out, and I'm elbow deep into the dryer, like some obscene proctologist digging for remnants of washings past. Hmm... look at the color of that... this feels a little sticky, could that be the final bit of the gobstopper.... This seems to be containing some small fragment of paper, is there a secret code, or perhaps this small blob of ink indicates something on a to do list... like remove lint from the dryer.

So after I got it all out, and coordinated tool retrieval with wife, I managed to vacuum out a small nerf sized ball of lint from the exhaust port.

So with all that lint.... what the hell are my clothes made of? Do the manufacturers include a micro-miniature 'lint' layer that slowly erodes away and produces lint. Does this layer secretely transmit information about what you watch on television to major league baseball? Did that one infamous missing grey sock reach critical mass and explode, providing a constant rate of fibers? Or....checking that small piece of paper, yeah, this is one of those jobs that I've been putting off for a while.

Who knows what lint lies within the hearts of dryers... only the maytag man knows.

I'm still here,
Pike