Today is laundry day for this hip housewife. Mondays have been laundry days since I began to run my own house at the age of seventeen. Mondays were laundry days for me back when I was in college, loading up my banged up blue Cavalier with sometimes up to thirteen (!) baskets destined for the laundromat. Did you know a laundromat can actually be a great place to study? Well, then again, not the ideal...but it worked at the time.
have been laundry days for generations of women long before I came on
the scene. All the way back to covered wagons and pioneer times, when
wrestling soaking heavy dresses, overalls, and petticoats on a washboard
demanded the renewed energy--and faith--gained from a day of worship on
It is a curious joy today to step into
my narrow washroom, just off the kitchen. The room was definitely built
for one. Winter coats and gear on wall-hooks grab me as I go past, and
we'll hopefully ignore one corner, where empty moving boxes, bags of
potatoes and onions, and a vacuum cleaner all squeeze for space. I
can't keep that spot neat no matter how I try.
Sun sparks off the
snow on this record snow-fall day, diamond dazzling through my
curtainless window over the washing machine. It occurs to me that I
like to do my laundry on Mondays for many reasons. First of all because
it works. Monday laundry day insures that we have fresh bedding,
towels, and clothes for the entire week. But it also ties me to women
throughout time, to women with washboards and clotheslines, to women
stirring clothes in vats of boiling water and lye, to women pounding
clothes on rocks in cold mountain streams. Clothes will always need to
be washed, I'm convinced, even when we're flying around like the
Jetsons--and who knows, maybe they'll still be done on Monday.
am so lucky. I pour liquid soap that smells of mandarin oranges into my
humming washer, watch as the bubbles begin to form. I adore the
strait-laced scent of bleach; it brings to mind images of
turn-of-the-century maid servants with their ruffled caps and aprons.
Everything comes out dry and soft, and so warm, I just want to wrap it
around me. Such a luxury to start the week with everything neat, clean
and folded--temporary perfection.