Emil and Everett are in training to do their own laundry. Emil is 15 — FIFTEEN! — and will need this skill if he ever leaves home. He says he plans to, but I think that is more a repeating of what he’s heard other people say about his inevitable future. One day, of course, he may have to: I’ll be dead and gone, or he’ll need to live close to his job (if he finds something he can do for a living), or he’ll just want to leave his mother. It could happen. It’s hard to imagine right now, but it’s not that far away.

Instead of showing them how to run the washer and dryer and do laundry communally, I gave them each their own basket for dirty clothes. I figure that is the most likely way to get them to think twice before throwing a virtually clean article of clothing into the laundry instead of folding it over a chair to wear the next day.

Everett is very eager and has his laundry basket downstairs well before I think to remind him. Emil can’t carry his alone, so I have him lift one side of it while I hang onto the other, though it would be 10 times faster to move it myself.

***

There were three people in my house this morning while I was still in my fluffy blue housecoat and had hedgehog hair. It’s a good thing I’m not terribly vain.

The first was a neighbour whom Manful had lined up to do some interior painting today. He thought he was to meet Manful here, but he'd already left. Did I know where he went? Well fortunately, I always ask him where he plans to be for the day in case I need to contact him for some reason. I remembered asking him before he walked out the door, right after my goodbye kiss. Unfortunately, when he answers me I either don’t listen or just don’t remember. I tend to have an elephant memory for the things he’d like me to forget, but the mundane details of life? Sorry.

The second two were here to do some housekeeping that we have pretty much been handling on our own but hey, I want to keep on their list of clients. They don’t come out to clean very often but I love to give them my money when they do. They always tackle the two toilets, which are never cleaned often enough and never will be if any of us in this household have to do it.

***

Manful just called, needs some texture-fresh picked up in town and then delivered to the jobsite, which is on the way to my home town.

“Will you do something for me?” he asks.
“Anything for you, my darling.”
Pause.
“I’m just waiting for the day you say the same to me,” I add, teasing.

It means leaving several hours earlier than I planned, so we have to bolt. My, the things I do for that boy.