Laundry

 

There is another ritual that we all practice either by choice or necessity, laundry.  Laundry is an act of contrition paid by you in homage of your clothes.  Every few days, or weeks, depending on the magnitude of the pile, we take our laundry to our personal clothes washing devises, or go in search of such machines as to feed them with quarters to sit and read a book, and or watch the spinning round and round of the clothes in a hypnotic rhythm of the drying process.  I'm convinced that the music often accompanying the spinning process is an attempt by the moral majority to wash our brains interjecting it's own code upon our beings.  

I have a special area that I let my dirty clothes collect.  This place has a wicker basket that gives me special signals as it closes time to wash the items.  If I ignore these subtle signals walking past the items to go up a certain stair case becomes impossible thus making doing the laundry a necessity.  Ignoring the signals is how I learned an important lesson about falling upstairs.  This lesson in itself can verge upon the supernatural as it defies gravity and should be addressed in a separate article.  

Laundry doesn't actually become laundry until a certain volume of clothes has been attained.  When reaching this level, usually between 2 and 4 feet in depth, then it has attained the cosmic title of Laundry.  

There is a choice presented to every practice of this ritual, "Which detergent to use?" This is an important decision and is very personal for every doer of the deed. Every house hold has it's own favorite soap. As long as the clothes come away from the process clean and smelling better than they went in, the correct choice has been made.  Fabric softener is optional. 

So, for you the practicer of the ritual of Laundry, take my advice, don't let it pile to high, and make sure you always have detergent on hand.  

Peace and Balance,

John