Laundry

It's laundry day, again. Any day can turn into laundry day around here, it's not always Tuesday, or Saturday, or any other day. But when it starts, it goes on forever. When the kids were little, I would do at least 7 loads of laundry a week. John's sister Lenore would always listen graciously whenever I told her about my laundry (over)load.  I got a new washer and dryer several years ago. I painted a clothesline in my tiny laundry closet before the front-loading beasts were installed.
I love my machines. I don't mind doing laundry but sometimes it seems like drudgery piled on top of other drudgery in my life -dishes (and I love my dishwasher); hounding the kids (and I love my kids) about school, homework, their messy rooms, their - oh yes- laundry; putting the (damn) plate covers back in the microwave; finding room for way too much food and other stuff brought home from shopping; moving piles of mail from one place to another...
Yes, there are so many other things I would rather do. Yes, there is such a sense of accomplishment in mundane tasks that can actually be completed as opposed to the projects that surround me and are never finished. Yes, cleanliness is next to godliness.  :>
And perhaps most important these days, as my mother ages and loses her memory, but not her need to contribute and stay busy, laundry keeps her busy when she is here and she is good at it.