Today is laundry day. There is nothing I enjoy less than laundry.
The folding & putting away of the laundry, to be exact.
The part where I sit in silence as the machines whirl around me is actually like a little slice of my own personal Heaven.
An entire hour, maybe two of child-free time, in which my husband encourages me to take and even voluntarily hands over wads of cash and shoos me out the door, happy to not be stuck with this particular duty.
Every week I dread this day but I quickly remember as I walk into the laundromat that this time, the time between washing and drying and folding, this time is mine, and mine alone.
I can sit and think in solitude.
I can daydream.
I can eat my lunch slowly and not have to share a bite.
I can stare at my shoes for an entire 90 minutes if that is what I desire.
I can read a book with no pictures.
I can do anything and have no one to answer to.
Nobody needs me right this minute.
Sometimes the last thing that I want to do is just exactly the thing that I need to get me through the day.