Laundry Time

Back in those dark days of the not too distant past, the weekly need to do our laundry affected my whole day (and, to be honest, bled over to the days before and after as well). We’d been spoiled by many years of having our own washer and dryer, before downsizing an extreme amount to try full time camper living (an interesting experiment that lasted just over a year). One of the biggest benefits (to me) of being in a campground was having the kidlets do that particular chore, since the facility was located in the rec room. They got to hang out, watch TV, and play pool or video games, and we got clean clothes twice-ish a week.

When hubby found the amazing rental property we currently live in, one of the minor drawbacks was the small size of the septic system. The previous tenants tried using a washer, and swamped the backyard. I knew there were at least three laundromats a short distance away, so we figured the slight inconvenience was far outweighed by the many, many perks (have I mentioned yet that we have the most amazing landlords on the planet?).

I soon discovered that laundry had become an exhausting task in a relatively short period of time. I had been in charge of it for a first couple months at the initial campground we stayed at, and I don’t recall it being nearly as challenging. Every time I intended to get an early start, the Universe conspired against me, and I’d end up running against the clock the entire day. It became a matter of course to sit in the car for a few minutes before leaving the house, waiting for the pounding in my chest to calm down. I knew it was some kind of anxiety thing, especially since our boy was the one to load the laundry bags & gear into the car, so physical exertion wasn’t to blame. I kept waving it off as just one of those things that happened with age, and was probably a side effect of menopause, so I’d simply have to cope with it until it resolved itself.

Now in my close-to-healthy state, laundry is becoming merely a blip on the radar of our daily existence. The Universe hasn’t gotten any less conspirely (yes, that’s a word, Mr. Auto Correct – okay, maybe not a real word, but one I choose to use nonetheless), however, now I’m finding the humor in each stumbling block, instead defaulting to my perpetual Chicken Little reaction of, “the sky is falling!” It’s a constant source of amazement that these issues I had, in some cases for many years, I never even recognized as less-than-normal.

Oh, and happy No More Political Ads (for now) Day!