A Laundry Quandary
It's laundry day here.
I must confess that I am no great fan of doing laundry. The whole process has a certain tediousness to it, from separating the whites from the darks from the bright colours to eventually sorting through everything and returning each item back to its proper place in the closet or the dresser. Such a time-consuming process. Such a waste of time.
As I was balling up socks, however, I got this notion regarding how unfortunate it is that we don't get to wash out some of our emotional stains. We all have things that could use a good soaking in a tub of hot water mixed with ample dose of bleach. That "ring-around-the-collar" you got from that guy or girl who broke your heart might disappear forever. That blotch left from a friend's betrayal might be flushed out in the rinse cycle and never bother you again. That red discolouration smearing your fear of growing old might fade away completely.
If only we could wash away our problems as easily as we wash the drizzle of blue Kool-Aid out of our favourite white T-shirt.
We hate stains on our clothes, and yet, for some reason, we cling to stains in our psyche. There is something about even our worst experiences that retains some kind of weird fascination in us, and we never seem to be able to let them go.
Why is it that we embrace the bad as much as we hold on to the good experiences of our lives? Think about it. All those bad experiences you had as a child growing up still linger in the back of your mind somewhere. You would think you'd have trashed them long ago, but nooo ... that bully in fourth grade still haunts you from time to time, that fight you had with your mother, father, sister or brother feels like it happened just yesterday, that kiss which turned into something unpredictable and unwanted still lurks in your dreams at night. Why?
Not enough detergent? Not enough bleach? Not enough softener? Not enough starch? Not enough stain remover?
Yes, we do everything possible to clean our clothes, but we never get around to taking a good scrub brush to our dingy past full of scuzzy memories.
Maybe we should try the dry cleaners ...
It's laundry day here.
I must confess that I am no great fan of doing laundry. The whole process has a certain tediousness to it, from separating the whites from the darks from the bright colours to eventually sorting through everything and returning each item back to its proper place in the closet or the dresser. Such a time-consuming process. Such a waste of time.
As I was balling up socks, however, I got this notion regarding how unfortunate it is that we don't get to wash out some of our emotional stains. We all have things that could use a good soaking in a tub of hot water mixed with ample dose of bleach. That "ring-around-the-collar" you got from that guy or girl who broke your heart might disappear forever. That blotch left from a friend's betrayal might be flushed out in the rinse cycle and never bother you again. That red discolouration smearing your fear of growing old might fade away completely.
If only we could wash away our problems as easily as we wash the drizzle of blue Kool-Aid out of our favourite white T-shirt.
We hate stains on our clothes, and yet, for some reason, we cling to stains in our psyche. There is something about even our worst experiences that retains some kind of weird fascination in us, and we never seem to be able to let them go.
Why is it that we embrace the bad as much as we hold on to the good experiences of our lives? Think about it. All those bad experiences you had as a child growing up still linger in the back of your mind somewhere. You would think you'd have trashed them long ago, but nooo ... that bully in fourth grade still haunts you from time to time, that fight you had with your mother, father, sister or brother feels like it happened just yesterday, that kiss which turned into something unpredictable and unwanted still lurks in your dreams at night. Why?
Not enough detergent? Not enough bleach? Not enough softener? Not enough starch? Not enough stain remover?
Yes, we do everything possible to clean our clothes, but we never get around to taking a good scrub brush to our dingy past full of scuzzy memories.
Maybe we should try the dry cleaners ...
