I came home Friday night and my dogs had gotten into a bag of wheat gluten. What's wheat gluten? It's the stuff you make seitan out of (that's a fake meat product, for those of you who just moved to New York from far away), which my lovely wife likes to do occasionally. Anyway, I was pretty pissed at the dogs, though it was hard not to laugh as the wheat gluten formed little beards on their snouts and made them slap their mouths open and closed like a couple of seventh graders chewing gum. You see, wheat gluten absorbs water at an alarming rate and becomes a very chewy, very rubbery substance—hence, seitan.
Ok, fast forward to Sunday afternoon, and I think to myself, "Hey, why not do a laundry! THAT IS SUCH A FUN IDEA."
So I gather all the dirty clothes and towels and things into a bag, including the little area carpet upon which much of the disastrous wheat gluten had initially spilled. To my mind, I'd done a pretty good job shaking most of the fine, powdery substance into the garbage, but evidently I was wrong.
I wash the clothes. I put them in the dryer. I return. I pull out the carpet and it's erupted with little dark blobs, like mushrooms after a fall rain, of what I can only assume is seitan. Seriously. To make matters worse, I get home with the laundry and start noticing tough little pills of the stuff on my shirts and my pants. MY LAUNDRY IS COVERED IN SEITAN.
I spent a while trying to get it off, but eventually gave up and put most of the items back in the laundry pile, much to my disgust.
And that is why I'm never doing laundry again.