On Saturdays I do the wash. I’m not complaining. Two people do not accumulate a huge amount of dirty clothing. I remember doing laundry twice a day when I had babies, and then again when I had teenagers who changed their clothes five times a day, throwing each change into the hamper even if it was clean. Now it’s usually three loads: one dark, one light, one linens. A warehouse-sized box of detergent can last for six months. The laundry is off the kitchen so there are no precarious trips up and down the basement stairs, and I can work on a soup or bake bread while in earshot of the machines. A nice rhythm to my week, sweetened by the fact that I’d had two kids before enjoying the luxury of machines I did not have to share, nor fill with quarters. Always an urban girl, I did my laundry in the company of strangers and a good book. The first thing I did when I moved into our new home was put in a load of towels and leave the house to do errands… for several hours. A thrill to come home to it still in the washing machine, not a wet pile on a dirty laundromat table. Continue
Very strong opinions since 1958