Terrible Towels

I know some pro football team has something to do with the phrase "terrible towels".  Is it the Steelers?  Anyway, I mean real towels.  I have never used and washed so many towels until, you guessed it, Ralph came.  Our back yard has a stream and a soft, marshy area that Ralph delights in running through every morning and in the cool of the evening.  And, since it has been rather rainy lately, that little spot is extremely muddy.  Fortunately, he is a good boy and doesn't mind being rinsed or bathed in the bathtub.  I could plant a garden from all the soil I've washed off of him.  So, as one might guess, I use and wash lots of towels.  Lots and lots of  towels.  Filthy, muddy towels that have dried off one filthy, muddy scottie.  (Sometimes Eleanor is just as muddy as Ralph.  Not Franklin. He doesn't like to get his feet wet.)

When the wash cycle is finished, it plays a little tune.

Then, disaster struck.  Our old washing machine died.  Chris immediately went to Lowe's and ordered us a new one.  I was in awe of the new machine.  It took me a week to get up the nerve to use it.  FANCY STUFF.  Buttons, and dials, and indicators, and pockets for detergent, bleach, and fabric softener.  It is the kind with no agitator, and it "senses" the load, plus I can be really picky now about how I want a load washed.  After reading the manual, I got brave and washed my first load of......towels.  On the BULKY setting, I might add.  Let me tell, you I have never had so much fun using a washing machine in my life.  I find joy in the simple things in life.