Sometimes I keep up with it, homemade dryer sheets and all. And I even enjoy it, the daily rhythm of sort, wash, dry, and fold.
Other times, I wash and dry as many loads as I can before I stop and fold. When I’m in a laundry-folding-procrastinating-phase, sometimes I pile load upon load upon load on top of the dryer. It becomes a game, how many loads can I pile before the whole thing starts to molt, scattering socks and dish towels as the dryer does its thing, rumble and toss.
And then, when the pile threatens to come crashing down, I start stuffing it. Stuff, stuff, stuff. Cram it down. Not a game anymore, this is war. Me against gravity, my silent protest against years of housekeeping. Screw it. I was made for more than this. Stuff, stuff, stuff. One more day, I bet I can make it one more day.
My sister says that I manage my laundry like I manage my feelings.
Sometimes, I keep up with them.
Other times. Well. You know.
Stuff, stuff, stuff.
And I am not aware of them until life does its thing, and I feel it, and I am rumbled and tossed, and I am scattered. The pieces fall where they may and land, jaggedly, on whoever stands the closest. I used to land on my kids, hard and loud, but the pieces of me fall more evenly, now, and more in a heavenly place.
This is the post that didn’t want to be written. It still doesn’t. It is still stuffed down inside of me.
Some things are crammed in the middle of the pile, like laundry Jenga. Pull too hard on those jeans, and everything explodes.
You just have to start at the top and work down. I’m working my way down. Some layers get stuffed in there for so long, they are molded in that stiff dried clothes formation. How does that even happen? It’s so weird. A soft washcloth, let it dry all wonky in that hard little wad, and it’s never the same again.
Thankful for the great laundry service in the sky. Fold me, Lord. Deliver me from the endless loads and hard little wads that try to take over my days.
Jesus. Your load is light.
Speaking of a light load, I have a few left to do today.
See you on the other side of the teetering tower.