Slow down, let yourself launder

The good news was that I didn't have to go to work. Or a game. Or a church meeting. Or grocery shopping. Or a doctor's appointment with one of the kids. Or anywhere.

Like, when was the last time THAT happened? Shortly after man discovered fire?

The bad news was that I had to do laundry. A LOT of laundry. So much laundry you would think that all the dirty socks at our house had gotten loose and reproduced like those killer rabbits who got loose and reproduced and eventually took over Australia.

(YES! Our dirty socks are on track to take over Australia!)

The reason for all the laundry? Well, our dryer went AWOL for a week, and by the time it reported back for active duty, the troops (i.e. my kids) were down to their last pair of clean skivvies. Or whatever. Enough with the military metaphors already.

The point is I had a lot of catching up to do. So there went my one completely free day.

Still, I figured if I got an early start sorting our uber-mountain of laundry into manageable laundry molehills, I might finish before noon, which would leave me enough time to get out and see some Actual Sunshine.

But OF COURSE I seriously underestimated how long washing a bunch of molehills takes. Before long, I realized I wouldn't be seeing Actual Sunshine anytime soon. ...

That's when I did something I never do. I just surrendered myself to my fate.

I'm doing laundry today, I said in my head. That's it. Nothing else. Nada. Just laundry.

Which turned out to be kind of fun. I know this sounds weird and sad, but it's true. I spent the better part of a day in my washroom, sorting and loading and washing and folding and yes — it really was kind of fun.

For one thing, my detergent smells really good, so I didn't mind being in the washroom with all those dirty socks that were off in the corners reproducing. Also, I LOVE the way clothes feel when you first pull them out of the dryer — especially towels. You can drape them around your shoulders and feel nice and toasty for about two minutes before they go all cold.

Oh, and another thing — I have a great view of my neighbor's cherry tree from the washroom window. Right now the slick branches are covered with slender garnet-colored buds, even though it's still winter. If I were my cat, I would sit on that washroom windowsill, looking at that tree and thinking snotty cat thoughts all day long.