I like work; it fascinates me. I can sit and look at it for hours. I love to keep it by me; the idea of getting rid of it nearly breaks my heart. Jerome K. Jerome
Laundry multiplies like rabbits when left alone. It can debilitatingly overwhelm and mesmerize even the most organized, strong-willed person.
I can wash and dry clothes. I just can’t remove them from my dryer. Several days later, I may remove the clothes, but I can’t fold them or locate a convenient drawer for them.
With two toddlers, our house looks like a laundromat for wrinkled dwarves.
Twelve loads of laundry fits perfectly on our couch. Underneath twelve loads of laundry is a nice, peaceful place for an afternoon nap.
Sitting and looking at laundry only makes it grow – into an overwhelming, depressing mockery of how perfect you – aren’t.
I know that I am not alone. No one else who visits my house can do my laundry either.
Is there laundry in Heaven? No. Laundry came as a result of Eve and that blasted (*#@!) apple. I’ll bet Adam just got a new fig leaf when his old one began to shrivel. Although, he probably did leave the old fig leaf on the floor next to the bed.
Heavy sigh. Our lives, like endless piles of laundry are paralleled in the silent resignation of a deep, heavy sigh. We must wash clothes, if we are ever to leave the laundry room. And at some point, we all want out of the house.
The toddlers are now teenagers! I thought I had laundry 10 years ago. Now, they do their own laundry, mostly, sort of. Interestingly, they too, cannot get past the obstacle of removing the clothes from the drier in a timely manner. The (!*@#**!) apple does not fall far from the tree. I hope the apples land in soft piles of clean laundry though, and very far away from any fig leaves.
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