The highlight of the week: it's friday night, I'm home, wearing yoga pants and a t-shirt, doing laundry. And happy about it.
Laundry makes me happy. The clothes are warm and fluffy, so I pull them straight out of the dryer and fold them up or hang them right away. I like the cozy feeling of it. And it's such a simple, predictable task. I know how long it takes to run a load of laundry, in fact my body is practically preset to hear the *buzz* of the dryer just seconds before it goes off. There's something wonderful about a task where progress is so easily measured, particularly in a world where we like things to be new, exciting, and (damnit) unpredictable. Well, not this girl. Give me warm, cozy expectations almost any night.