I get to feel superior to socks when I am conquering a load of laundry.
That is sort of cool, isn’t it?
There’s a swathe of the backyard that is leaf-free. Just one corner. (Well it was yesterday). I did that. I own that.
Housework is menial work. Which is to say “humble” or “lowly” and “lacking prestige.” The work of a servant is the work of “dogsbody”. Such words hold the muscle will of those who built our country.
Nothing so simple as completing a home task can make me feel so satisfied.
A clean refrigerator. The freshly cut grass. Weeded garden. Laundry done.
I do not desire to spend my day in service to my home. But I do not regret it either.
When I’ve loaded the dishes, again– another meal in the endless cycle of food — I survey the clean counters, like prairies mowed and ready for seed.
I felt like a warrior on Friday when I took 4 boxes of CDs and videotapes to Goodwill. And the CD/video cupboard is so gloriously organized! Fare forward, valiant soldier!
There is something so real and now about manual labor and menial chores. It’s the cogs in the machine, the tending to details that keep us alive and civilized. I miss raking and maintaining a large yard.
We had great satisfaction by late Saturday afternoon, when our yard was nearly leaf-free.
[...] the least of these is feeding a family of six. Not the worst of them is laundry. Some I despise for no particular reason, like emptying the dishwasher. Whenever my mom comes to [...]