Whoever designated Monday as Washday, did the world a favour.
Is there anything better than crawling in between freshly laundered sheets at the end of the day? All the rigors of life on Monday melt away as your head settles on the sweet smelling pillowcase and your toes wiggle in bliss across the smooth surface of the newly-made bed.
How fondly I remember the feeling of satisfaction I would get each week, as I tucked the kiddos, straight from their nightly bath into their Monday beds. It somehow felt like order amid the chaos of life, peaceful moments at the end of a busy day--the way things were supposed to be.
Doing laundry in the midst of reno mess is not at all satisfying. It is more like an exercise in futility, as I unsuccessfully try to keep the wet towels and socks from hitting the dusty floors before they make it to the dryer. The special Egyptian cotton sheets have to be maneuvered between dusty, plastic drapes to get upstairs to the drying wracks. No shrinking dryer heat for them. By the time they make it to the mattress, there are more than enough streaks of dust and lint on them, but still, they smell great.
You know you've done a good thing, dusty or not, when the light is off and Husband sleepily says,