Saturday…

Today is laundry day…

My mother had hand embroidered dish towels with the days of the week, and a different chore assigned to each. I remember laundry day was one of them, but I don’t remember the specific day.

My husband reminded me that he had blood on the sleeve of one of his favorite shirts, and he asked me to try and get it out.

I was an emergency/trauma nurse for 25 years; if there’s one thing I can do, it’s get blood out of a shirt.

I also had to pick off stick-tights and a sand spur, because he and the dog are like magnets when it comes to traveling weed seeds.

I can remember when I was little, my mother used to let me sew buttons on the dish towels. She had a tin full of buttons, all shapes and sizes. I knew needles were sharp.

My sister is 4 1/2 years younger, and I don’t remember mother letting her do anything with a needle.

My husband is 4 1/2 years younger than me. Sometimes I think he and my sister are twins. I marvel sometimes over their similarities.

I like laundry day. My thoughts wander, and I remember things I haven’t thought about in years.

electric-washing-machine

 

 

 

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