Laundry Interrupted

In my washing machine right now, there is a load of musty-smelling bath towels that need to be washed. Again. For the third time in a row.

You would think that a modern woman like me with the modern conveniences of a washer and a dryer in her home could manage to get a load of laundry washed and dried, if not folded and put away, in less than three days. You would think that if you didn’t have kids. If you do, well, then you understand that even your interruptions are interrupted by interruptions. And unlike a two-year-old, laundry will just sit quietly, steeping in it’s own mildew, waiting patiently for you to come back.

Before I had a child, laundry was a day and not a state of being. Now laundry is not only a state of being but a decorating scheme.

There is laundry on the laundry room floor waiting its turn for a weekend in the washer. There is laundry in the dryer waiting for Godot. There is laundry in the basket on the sofa waiting to be dumped out and jumped in for the umpteenth time. Sometimes I just can’t help myself. There are piles of laundry on the breakfast bar hoping to hitch a ride to the bedroom. And yet another pile of laundry positioned just so on a sofa table where a lamp used to be, where you might expect to see an artful display of books or a vase or even a Tonka truck. But no, that would be so expected, so pedestrian. A stack of gym socks and underwear says so much more about who we are.

Here at the House of Antique, we are on the on the cutting edge of design. Laundry chic, the next decorating trend. You heard it here first.

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