Still Loading

There once was an old saying about work that went, "You load sixteen tons and what do you get? Another day older and deeper in debt."

Some of you young'ns might be thinking 'What in the hay is that supposed to mean?' Well, I'll tell you... it's all about laundry. Yes, laundry, where the loads might as well be measured in tons according to my joints. It is the never-ending chore that, regardless of how many loads you wash today, there will still be as much to dry and fold and then put away tomorrow or the next day for as long as you are willing to drag it out. And by the time you reach that supposed ending point, when the last pair of socks is matched up and tucked away, but before the latch catches on the laundry room door, you can turn around to find that all the hampers are full and the underwear drawers are empty.

Get to it! Wash, dry, fold, repeat. Depending on the size of a family and each person's individual fondness for clothing (girls), neurotic bathing habits (no one in my house), and gender (I've heard of neat boys, but never met one), you might do anywhere from four (do you live in those?) to ten (average) and well on close to sixteen or more (Mount Saint Smellin) loads a week.

It's all well and good, a necessary evil to satisfy one's sense of cleanliness, godliness, or just plain don't-want-to-stink-ness, but beyond the eternal nature of laundry, the really sad part is that no appreciation comes out of accomplishing this task. Thank yous fall like a drop of dew on a shriveled vine; payment comes in the form of forgotten coins out of unemptied pockets, along with pens, important (and now useless) papers, and EW! what was that?

Those seeking more substantial gratitude or a Christmas bonus must first determine if they are qualified. Have you been married for over twenty years? Have all your children grown up and left home to fend for themselves in the world? Have you died and gone to heaven? Participants must answer yes to all questions in order to qualify. Whether you have or have not trained each member of your troop (including the one close to your age) how to deposit their soiled articles into a bio hazard recycling receptacle has no bearing on the matter--stick to training dogs; it's easier, they remember longer, and it looks better on a resume. Whether you have other duties besides mountain climbing and divining lights from darks has no bearing, the ability to juggle only impresses clowns and elementary-aged children.

No matter how many urine-soaked sheets you strip off of the same beds, in the same week... no matter how many socks you can miraculously change from mud-brown to white and match again to similarly ill-treated footwear, the only words you will hear concerning this labor is when you have neglected it and the clean supplies of clothing, towels, and sheets run dry (or wet, as the case may be).

But don't be discouraged, and don't presume to cease washing, wiping, cooking, vacuuming, or working in general, lest the world as we know it come to a screeching halt. If you want a pat on the back, stretch, bend, and work that elbow. It's good exercise and you've put in another fine day of work.

Just remember, after you've loaded your sixteen tons, aged a day and earned no pay, it is now time to fulfill the other end of the adage and go shopping. Alone.