thoughts on laundry

I had a revelation today,
as I passed by the pile of laundry on my living room floor,
the little boys clothes draped across the chair,
the full hamper in the kids room,
the basket in the baby's room overflowing with wee baby things,
the folded clothes on top of the dryer,
the handwashed pants hung over the ironing board to dry,
the unmatched socks littering the laundry area,
the sheets and towels towering on my dresser,
and the trail of clothes encircling my bed like an island.
This is what drives women to madness.
Utter madness.
The inability to finish laundry, I think, has sent
countless otherwise sane women, to special places,
with padded rooms and therapists.
Why?
They want to go somewhere where they don't have to do laundry.
I'm sure you think nudist colonies were founded by hippies
longing to get free from the restraints of society.
Not so.
This movement was, in fact, encouraged by a band of mothers,
who refused to keep doing laundry.
Their children hounded them for clean socks one too many times.
And something snapped.
These mothers said,
"That's it. No more clothes for you. You're going naked."
What choice did the children have? They had to form a colony.
Once I actually got to the bottom of the hamper.
I came back three minutes later and someone had tossed socks in.
There is a rumor that I was found, rocking,
in fetal position, murmuring, "The clothes are against me."
I will neither confirm or deny this rumor.
As I type, I know I have to go back out there,
with my game face on and deal with the laundry.
It must be done.
But I have a dream.
Someday all the socks will match.
And someone else will empty the lint trap.
The hampers will be emptied.
The towels will be folded.
And I will never ever have to put away clothes again.
It's never wrong to dream big, girls....
Mother's Day is just around the corner.