Monday Wash Day

Who made the ruling so long ago that Monday would be laundry day?  Even when I was just a little girl, I knew that my mother would be doing a big batch of it every Monday.

Aren't Mondays rough enough without adding piles of dirty underwear to the picture?  Wouldn't it be more copastetic to do laundry on Friday and then sail into the weekend knowing all was well and good (and clean)?

I don't know why I'm even debating this issue with myself, as I do some laundry every other day or so, and did several loads every day back in those years when my four children were growing up.  What with toilet training, nose bleeds, childhood virus barf-aramas, and sweaty beds in the days before we could afford air conditioners, it was not uncommon for me to wash clothing or bedding seven days a week.

Anyway, the husband/lover/driver and I had some business to check on today, two hours up the road from home.  We meandered through the countryside, taking note that so many homes followed the Monday Wash Day tradition.

We passed through farmland where the Amish folks string their laundry way up in the breeze using pulley systems.

"They" say, whoever "they" are, that cleanliness is next to godliness.

If any of that is true, perhaps we skirted the very edge of Heaven today.