Once a week I get to pretend
I’m a guest at the Four Seasons
where they give you nice, clean, soft sheets
freshly-laundered, every day.

Every Tuesday
(or Wednesday/Thursday/Friday/Monday, depending)
I get to corral all of those musty towels
and stinky socks
and jeans that could walk themselves to the hamper
and with soap and quarters and mechano-magic
turn them into puffballs of clean-smelling goodness
so that every Wednesday
(or Thursday/Friday/Monday/Tuesday, depending)
I feel better reaching for a kitchen towel
I feel happier slipping on my favorite pair of underwear
I feel rich surveying the multiplicity of choice
that is my t-shirt drawer.

But the best thing
of all about Laundry Day
is Laundry Night
when,
after a long, hot bath
or a long, hot shower (depending),
I turn off the lights
and turn on the ceiling fan
and crawl into a bed fitted with clean, soft sheets
just like you get
at the Four Seasons.

Some people might think
it’s better at a hotel
when someone else does the washing
and the folding
and the making of the bed.

I say it’s probably better
to do it yourself.

You appreciate that bed more
when you’re pretending to be
a Four Seasons maid
than a Four Seasons guest.

Most of the time, anyway…

xxx
c

Photo by Sir Mildred Pierce via Flickr, used under a Creative Commons license.

TOPICS: 21 day salutes, Cheering the Hell Up™, Daily Cosmic Shoutout, life, Poetry Thursday.

This entry was posted by the communicatrix on Tuesday, June 13th, 2006 at and is filed under The Personal Ones. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.