Go Sox

Up late folding laundry. Listening to the game on the radio. Folding laundry. At least 100 loads. Then falling asleep on the new, old red sofa only to be stirred by bits of excitement about the game. Tied. Tied. Then around 1 I hear ecstatic commentators. "They've done it." "Manny, Manny, Manny." The game is over. The laundry sits. And waits. Clean and folded, it waits. I go to bed.

This morning I drive to the bank. One clean and folded basket left. Small clothes for little people. A day's worth. But it only takes a minute to undo, to strew across their room, like confetti. After game confetti. For all the world to see. Or for no one.

Addendum--10 minutes later

"It looks like he was trying to put away his laundry and the other kids' laundry got in the way. What can you say to that? He was being helpful," he laughs, clearly unaware of the direness of the situation.

"Yes. Helpful?????" I say sarcastically. But I finally chuckle a little thinking about confetti and strewn socks and Sox and my four-year-old son putting away his laundry.