You know your life is a little skewed WHEN, after baking 5 pies, 10 dozen cookies, 3 pans of dressing, one pan of rolls, one turkey, a dozen potatoes, a half-dozen sweet potatoes; AND after hosting 3 people for dinner and 6 more for dessert; AND after “coordinating” the food for an event that held more than 150 people; AND after raking about a billion leaves from the back of the house to the street with your spouse and a group of grouchy girls; THE thing to give you the most satisfaction of the last six days or so was hanging up the last of the eight loads of laundry at midnight at the end of the vacation (if that’ s what you could call it).
Yes, that was a long, convoluted sentence.
It was a long, convoluted weekend, too, if you hadn’t figured.
But it was a good weekend, full of stress, full of stress release, full of people, full of food–most of which was not just edible, but tasty. But that laundry? It needed to be done. I found the jeans that went missing two weeks ago–in a basket down by the washing machine, waiting under the husband’s dress pants for their turn to be laundered. Laundry just didn’t make it to the top of the list until Sunday after church, when I would have much rather sat in my chair and watched a good movie. Instead, I sat at the big table downstairs, sorting socks and such, while watching a good movie. And we made pulled pork for dinner, which made the house smell particularly appetizing.
And that laundry? I like to pretend it is done, but the truth is, that’s just the laundry of the two adults in the house. Eight full loads from weeks gone by. Tonight? After the music lessons and the dinner of leftover pork and/or turkey and lots and lots of stuffing? Daughter #3 requires clean clothes, as does Daughter #2. (Daughter #1 mostly handles her own, thanks be to the laundry gods.)
Is it a grand accomplishment? Nope. Won’t get the reviews that the pies did, or the Friday event, or even look as startlingly stark as the (mostly) leaf-free lawn, but it did bring a ginormous amount of satisfaction to this weary old lady. Now if I can just keep people from soiling their clothes long enough to, to … too late.