It’s Greek to Me

On a good day, laundry is a rather Sisyphean task.  It seems to never end.  As long as we continue to go out in public, we will wear clothes, and those clothes will inevitably become dirtied and require washing to make them presentable for our next public appearance.  However, in recent weeks, the act of doing the laundry has even more closely resembled Sisyphus’ maddening rock-pushing.  Why, you may ask?  Oh, because I’ve enlisted a little help. 

How could you say no to such eager assistants?

These little creatures have decided that the best way to help me with the chores is to pull the piles of clean laundry off the couch (my clean laundry folding zone) and onto the floor (my dirty laundry sorting zone).  Thus, to my wearied brain, it looks like I never accomplish anything.  The to-be-laundered piles mysteriously multiply on the floor, no matter how many loads I stick in the washer. 

Granted, this problem could be averted if I waited until the girls were napping to take the clean laundry out of the dryer, then immediately folded it and put it away.  But such a solution would require a touch more self-discipline than I currently possess.  And it would deprive my girls of the learning experience.  And deprive me of the object lesson in Greek Mythology. 

Hmmm…maybe that’s what the girls’ laundry antics are trying to make me appreciate.   

Susie: “Hey Mom, wouldn’t you rather be like Sisyphus than Medusa?”