Or alternatively, don’t drop your laundry on the floor!
Gathering up all the laundry to get it done before tonight…I try not to do laundry on Rosh Hodesh, since I try to give myself the “treat” of not doing work that day but I’m not presently doing any spinning. Since this month, Rosh Hodesh Tevet lasts for two days, and we’ll travelling on Tuesday anyway, and we had a bunch of Shabbat guests, and we’re excited about some very nice ones joining us next week, I’ve got a lot of cleaning to do.
Separating into piles…towels and sheets and tablecloths, whites, permanent press, darks…
Is darks a word or a concept?
We tend to have a lot more darks in the winter time and I feel like I’m always scooping up more and more from all over. ISHI, in fact, asked me if he could add a pair of pants after I had already started a load.
A half an hour after.
Um, no, not easily.
But before I got to that point, he really had a lot of time to add to the darks. While I was in that separating process, I found I had also scooped up one of my shoes.
Yes, just one.
Of course, I didn’t panic.
I re-separated all the laundry. I shook out all the darks. One by one.
And then I shook out all the sheets. All five sets. Just in case. One by one. And that goes for everything else, too.
And then I figured (!) I’d look in my room for the other shoe.
Not on the floor where I would have scooped up the first shoe.
Not under the bed.
Not in the closet on my shoe rack.
Not on my very nice shoe rack bench, either.
Okay really starting to panic now.
These are a pair of Naot shoes and I really like them. I did not want to see how well they hold up in the wash.
This is when a chore really becomes one.
The effective definition of a chore today is something that you have to do that doesn’t really take too much energy but it’s something that has to get taken care of and doesn’t bring you that much joy. So walking the dog could be a chore or not, depending on your attitude, and, I guess, on the dog.
But having to go through every item of clothing again and again, searching the room again and again, this was definitely getting overwhelmingly chorish.
I think I’m going to do a photo essay on my shoes; line them up and make a story out of them. I think that would tell a lot about me.
Okay, did you figure out what happened to my shoe yet?
Does this have a happy ending or not?