It's Eve's Fault

Some day I'm going to ask Eve what she was thinking.  She had it made.  She lived in a beautiful garden with the man she was made for.  All she had to do was love him.  Dinner was hanging from the trees.  There was no house keeping and no laundry.  Then again, maybe she has been kicking herself for thousands of years and doesn't need me dumping anti-bacterial detergent on the wounds.

So, it's laundry day again.  Not that laundry is ever completed.  It is more like winding a clock than crossing something off of a list.  I know I'm going to have to do it again, and again, and...

I don't really mind doing it.  Once every thing is sorted and stored in the laundry room, it isn't really that big a deal.  I am blessed to have a laundry that is just next to my work room.  I can piece and work on customer quilts while I am waiting for the wash to complete a cycle.  It is really very pleasant as far as chores are concerned.

The part I hate is sorting.  Teenage boys are stinkin' pigs!!  Oh the smells that come out of their hampers.  I don't want to touch those clothes.  I don't want those clothes touching either my flesh or my clothes.  YUCK!!  However, I don't have the money to hire someone else to do the job.  So, I pray that God prepares for each of my boys a beautiful and loving wife.  A woman made expressly for them.

One day they, the stinkin' pig boys, will find the woman that God has created just for them and they will love and honor her.  They will be very happy.  She will love my boy and overlook the fact that he was once a pig boy.  After a time, my son's, and their beautiful wives, will have own beautiful children.  These children will grow and be the delight and joy of their family.  And when these delightful children approach manhood their chemistry will alter in the way that raging hormones alter a boy.  And my boys will know exactly what I was talking about.  How sweet the thought.

In the mean time, I am encouraged by my work room, the abundance of light and the breadth of the view, and the lovely large table that my long-arm machine rests on.  It is perfectly constructed to hold my laundry baskets while I sort.  I no longer pass out with my head in the depths of a hamper.  The stench is dissipated by the overhead fan....and a large bottle of Febreze.

All is well in my little quilty world.