I sit in the middle of the hall and fold the washing. It is easiest there because it is where I dumped it earlier and just outside the bedrooms where I will take it to put it on the shelves where it belongs. On the surface – the folding of laundry appears an unthankful task. In a matter of hours or days, these lovingly washed, folded and sorted garments will be worn, dirty and rumpled, thrown on the floor waiting to be washed and folded once again. This activity however has deeper reasoning than that. The clothes we wear have a great effect on how we feel for the day. I know that my daughter will be happy if she can wear her ‘Dora’ dress so I make sure that it is clean for her. My daughter loves her ‘Dora’ dress, would wear it every day if I let her and it obviously makes her feel good. In the same way I need something decent to wear to meetings and to see clients. It’s not exactly a uniform but I feel obliged to wear the appropriate attire. I fold my jeans and put them aside to look forward to slobbing around on the weekend.
I pull my husband’s work pants out of the pile. These disgusting things cost more than my nicest shoes, yet they have holes ripped in the knees, through the thick commercial double layer and have a large black stain down one leg. They are covered in adhesive and other muck, which I fear causes irreversible damage to my washing machine, but they are dutifully folded and placed on his pile. His clothes are chosen for the day based on need. They protect him from tools and other hazards on the building site and they have to be tough and strong. They have a slight chemical odour, even after washing, but no one will notice once hes at work, surrounded by others all dressed in the same vein.
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