If you know me at all, you know that laundry is the bane of my existence. It consumes my free time (what's THAT?), takes up a huge amount of space in my home, adds to the ever-present septic concerns, and is the source of many arguments with and among my kids. WHY? Why can't we all wear the same clothes all week long like they did in the old days? OK, I know why. I am just venting. This is the main reason I fantasize about having a live-in maid. Cooking and cleaning has value, too, but laundry...I just don't want to think about it.
What if I could find some way to love it? What if, like St. Therese, I could remember to offer this minor misery to Jesus every day? This blog is, after all, about the mundane, right? And my resolution is to embrace it, right? EMBRACE, not merely ACCEPT. <sigh>...I suppose this means, then, that I have to love laundry. As I carry an armload to the washing machine, I will endeavor to imagine I am actually embracing it. I will think of it as a helpless child who needs me to get it clean. Too crazy? Perhaps, but weren't all the sacrificing saints a bit loony? My plan could work. And I think Therese would approve.