I had set about doing a multitude of tasks that had been procrastinated serially for some time. Once I get into the swing of things, ideas that had not here-to-fore presented themselves make themselves known. One thing leads to another and there I am taking care of something that actually serves to keep me from an item or two on the punch list of things to do.
One of those items was to stuff the bed pillows into the laundromat and wash out whatever it is that experts say accumulates in the stuffings. The wash cycle finished and I moved them into the gas fired clothes dryer. Later with three fluffy warm pillows in my arms and held close under my chin, this is where the Random Recovered Memory kicked in.
When I and my sisters were all just little tykes, our father on a cold winter night would put our pillows into the kitchen oven to warm them up and make going to sleep a margin easier. Only the recollection of that being done remains in my aging brain. I had the feel of it when headed back to the bedroom with the freshly laundered pillows. I have no recollection of how often the pillows were warmed for us or for how many winters that lasted. I just know that somewhere in those halcyon days was the last time it was done.
Maybe it is the approach of Fathers' Day that led me to this memory and even to the idea that I should launder the pillows at all. Silly bugger me.
