Laundry Day

It seems simple really. A task everyone must undertake. Laundry. I have become inundated and therefore have no choice but to become an expert. This task begins with a search and rescue. It’s wise to start with the various collection sites in the bedrooms and bathrooms, but attention must turn to the smaller less obvious hiding places: at the foot of the bed, under the couch, in the car, on the dining room table, behind the couch, etc. After the offending articles have been recovered and deposited on the laundry room floor, it’s time for sorting into appropriate piles. I prefer to separate the clothes as follows: white whites for a hot load, reds and oranges together to keep the colors true and avoid the infamous pink socks scenario, darks, lights, and linens. I also choose to wash anything associated with the dog or wiping up messes separate from all other items. Then load by load I make progress through the cleaning cycles; cup of detergent, turn the water on, fill up basin with clothes, top off with fabric softener ball, close lid, and try to remember in thirty minutes to switch the wet clothes over to the dryer. It usually takes at least two cycles of drying to finish off one load and I like to fold the clean, crisp laundry right out of the hot dryer and into the basket. This is where I feel the need to tell you that I often forget my laundry duties and the wet articles will go untouched for hours before I manage to finish one load. But eventually I have baskets brimming and spilling with all the clean, folded and evenly divided clothes, ready to be tucked neatly into drawers or closets. The baskets sit in my path begging to be put away, and after a long week of endless washing, I get to the final task of finding a home for every last shirt and underpant. I very easily could have completed ten loads on any given week, but this is not all. No, this is not all. The final step is what I kindly refer to as the Sisyphus Syndrome, because like the Greek God that was required to push a boulder to the top of a mountain only to find it at the bottom and starting all over again, I must go back to the very beginning of my laundry task only moments after having seemingly finished.