Literally.
Laundry.
Most of the time I keep on top of it. I try to do a load every day, wash... dry... fold.. put away... but this morning I found three hampers of laundry in my dining room. Two headed up from the basement {clean} and a huge one heading down {dirty} and I had enough.
So this afternoon I did laundry.
I made tea and took hampers up to my sunny bedroom. Told the kids where I'd be, and that they could play in the playroom or their bedroom.
And they listened.
So I drank my tea. I folded laundry. I listened to their chatter, brother to sister, sister to brother, {occasionally} friends. I sorted clothes and dishcloths and dish towels. Thomas undies and Hello Kitty undies. I marveled over how big the kids clothes are, and yet still how tiny. And I thought about how little laundry there was when it was just me and him... I matched socks and took tea breaks, looking out the window over to the river. The deep blue shining and sparkling. I vowed to spend more time in my bedroom by myself. Even if it means folding laundry...
Sometimes laundry is just what a soul needs.