Posts Tagged ‘hamper’

The Prodigal Sock

March 28, 2011

It has returned!

The lost sock is back in its rightful place, rolled up with its mate, tucked in the second drawer from the top in my dresser.

I discovered it lurking in the hamper, tangled in a pair of jeans, evading detection. How it managed to escape me for so long, I cannot say. All I know is that it’s back where it belongs now.

I’ll admit that I was disappointed when the sock disappeared, but a part of me never lost hope that one day it would find its way home. Tossing away its mate would have indicated a finality that I wasn’t prepared to accept. So the remaining sock sat on top of my dresser—a small sign of faith—and together we waited.

Staying positive is not something I do naturally or well. Seeing those socks in my drawer each morning reminds me to adjust my outlook.

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Washing Smalls

February 14, 2011

I met Peanut’s grandpa in the laundry room today. He entered toting a giant collapsible hamper full of dirty wash and fed it all into the triple-loader.

“One little baby makes a lot of laundry,” I said.

He just smiled.

The smallest people in the house tend to be responsible for the most dirty clothes—and no one seems to mind.

Unhampered

January 31, 2011

I wonder how many people clean the house before they go away for a few days. I always do—vacuum the rugs, wash the dishes, take out the trash, tidy up—and not merely because burglars, should they choose this time to visit, would be scandalized by my usual level of untidiness.

I do it so that I come home to a place that’s ready to welcome me when I return. I don’t want to come home to my everyday disarray; I want to come back to the home I envision, where all the pieces are in place except for one. The last missing piece is me.

Naturally, before I go away I do the laundry as well. Then, when I return, I have clean clothes in the closet and an empty hamper waiting to be filled with my traveling clothes when I unpack my suitcase.

Always More

April 21, 2010

Yesterday I saw the bottom of my laundry hamper.

You do your own laundry. (You do, don’t you?) You understand why this is noteworthy.

It happens from time to time. You plumb the depths of the hamper; reach the summit of Mount Horrid (the name one Twitter follower bestowed upon her laundry pile). The lights and darks, regulars and delicates reach an equilibrium at which all loads are full loads and all laundry is done.

Or is it?

There’s always something more to wash, isn’t there? There’s always more to be done.

Today I grabbed the three afghans that usually nest on the living room furniture and tossed them in for a warm water wash.

Laundry is a journey. Mine continues.