Gentle Cycle

My meditations on an ordinary laundry day:

We all know the routine. The break up of the darks and lights, the stain stick being liberally applied to those articles of a more soiled nature. With one basket on each hip, I carefully make my way down the stairway, over a 73 lb labrador and through the kitchen only to be met by one final obstacle. . . the garage door. PUtting both baskets down, I brace open the door with an agile foot and push one basket after another through. Whew.

I tip in the first load, cascades of smelly clothing fall in. The trick is to settle all the clothing in a centered ring around the middle to prevent the 'hiccups' that sometimes happen in unbalanced loads.
Now to select the settings. . . hmm. Always seems like such a gamble, but I test the water for the "Cold" setting. Didn't mom always say that that cold would keep the colors from bleeding? Or was it warm? Oh well - we always find out the hard way, right?

Water starts filling the full barrel. Time for the best part - detergent. The smell is absolutely intoxicating. . . if I didn't hold myself down to sanity, I'd be washing my hair in this stuff. After filling a cup halfway, I make three circles of dribblings all over the clothing. Then, I slam down the lid and pull the lever for a majestic finish.

Time for the washing machine to do its magic. Who ever said doing the laundry was a monotonous chore?