Laundry Day


The title of this post is an inside joke with myself because around here, everyday is Laundry Day. Having a big, happy family means I do a lot of laundry. I mean it: about 2.57 loads a day, about 18 loads a week, about 936 loads a year. While I’ve tried many approaches to decrease this huge chore I have found that tons of laundry is just “the way of things.”

So I submit. I will spend hours and hours of my life doing laundry. Really, it’s a nice time to be quiet by myself (somehow a weary, weeping mother scares away any helpers) and I find it gives me time to think. Because I love beautiful things, I have filled my laundry room with cool pieces that lift my soul as I launder away. Clothespins are corralled in an aqua green McCoy pottery bowl, like a quaint, Grant Wood still life. Dryer sheets sit in a wicker basket.

Every month or so, vast amounts of white powder detergent are decanted from the big bulky box into a glass iced tea jar. When pretty, glass iced tea jars (with their convenient spigots) hit the market a few years ago, I had to have one. I found one at a garage sale and brought it home, bursting with happiness. I then planned a backyard barbecue solely to justify by iced tea jar purchase, only to find that the stupid thing was in a garage sale in the first place because the spigot slow-leaked until empty. Good for iced tea, it was not. So after a few months of denial, I repurposed the iced tea jar to hold laundry detergent. Plan B.

And then, for a detail that only I can appreciate, I’ve replaced the bright green plastic laundry scoop with a vintage metal measuring cup. No one knows it’s there. Except me. As I launder away. Everyday.temp-post-image