It's Therapy to Me

I like doing laundry.  I like spending Saturday morning sorting my clothes into piles and then washing them, folding them, and putting them away.  For me there is something therapeutic to the orderliness of this task.  I know that my t-shirts, yoga pants, and even underwear have a specific way in which they must be folded in order to maximize the space in my dresser.  My shirts must be hung up as soon as the dryer stops so they aren't wrinkled.  (Ironing is not therapeutic at this time of my life, however when I had to wear pressed clothes even that was nice.)  Skirts and dress pants too.  Jeans are folded just so and tucked away for their next wear.  My towels and washcloths are bleached and dried completely, because in my opinion nothing is worse than a musty smelling towel.  There's a way they must be folded as well.  And all of this, while extremely OCD to an outsider, makes me feel happy.  I like starting off my week knowing that all of my clothes are clean and ready for me to wear.  It also gives me a feeling of accomplishment that I don't find in other household chores.  Perhaps one of these days vacuuming or cleaning the kitchen will give me a sense of peace as well, but for now it is the laundry.

So if you come to visit, ignore the dust bunnies under the table and the dishes in the sink.  However, I'll be more than happy to show you my happy, organized t-shirt drawer.  And if you throw your laundry in my basket, it will be washed and folded come the weekend.