Until bedtime, that is.
When everyone trades what we’re wearing for pajamas.
And then it starts all over tomorrow, because laundry quietly breeds and reproduces in the hamper, even though I do try to keep everyone separated, according to darks and lights and reds. But that feeling of ALL THE LAUNDRY IS DONE brought a glow to my heart for a little space of time today. I almost felt like I could conquer the world. Like I could scale Mt. Everest. Or de-bone a duck, stuff it with meat and seasoned stuffing, and wrap it all up in a tasty pastry, just like Julia Childs’ recipe in Mastering the Art of French Cooking.
That last part is never going to happen at our house.