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Posts Tagged ‘love’

“Whatcha doin’?”

“Washing sheets. What are you doin’?”

“Oh, nothin’. Just…” 

That’s how every conversation with my dad on Sunday nights starts.

At first, it was our inside joke. Almost every time I called him, I happened to be doing laundry. Which made sense. When I was a young adult, the time I carved out for laundry was about the only time I was home long enough at a decent hour to make a phone call.

Over the years, it’s become our ritual. 

So when I put my sheets in the washer on Sunday night (as my faithful Finch app reminds me to do), I call my dad.

This week, I’m going to talk about the most frequent chores I do at home that make the biggest difference in keeping it functional (and also presentable, but mostly functional). On Thursday, I’ll share with you another of my favorite books and outline the things I’m picky about when it comes to laundry.

But today, I want to talk about part of why laundry is my favorite of the frequent chores.

There are the practical reasons:

  • It makes mornings easier to not have to search through piles for something to wear.
  • It makes a clear, visible difference to the state of my home.
  • It’s a mostly hands-off chore and thus the easiest chore to stack onto other tasks, making me feel twice as productive.

What cinches it for me are the emotional reasons. 

We lived on a farm while I was growing up, and my dad did farm the land for many years, but his main job for most of my life was owning and running a dry cleaning business. He taught me (almost) everything I know about removing stains, ironing and getting the creases just right, and taking care of clothes so that they last as long as possible. Any alterations or repairs that were needed were done at the shop. One of my first summer jobs was running the front while he ran the washer and the steam press. 

I can still smell the solution used in the machine.

It’s not the career my dad planned when he was younger. He took over the business from his stepfather. He always strives to be good at everything he does and do everything to the best of his ability. I think being trusted to carry on Granddad’s legacy made him really happy. 

Laundry (and being picky about it) is part of that legacy. It might even be my whole family’s favorite chore. 

It was also one of the first clues to my mom that I was even worse off than I’d led her to believe when she came to take care of me for a few weeks in my mid-twenties. There were a few months when I just couldn’t keep anything down and was in constant pain. I knew I needed help, but I didn’t want to ask. She must have heard something wrong in my voice, because she suggested that she come for a visit.

Usually, I would go into a cleaning frenzy if I knew anyone was visiting, but especially my mother, the queen of clean. I couldn’t do it, though. My roommate at the time did her best, but when Mom got there, the first thing she noticed (other than the fact that I was curled in the fetal position on the couch) was the piles of laundry at the foot of my bed. She immediately started a load and spent the next two weeks cleaning, feeding us, driving me to doctors (probably bullying the doctors a little), and making sure the laundry stayed done. 

When my sister had knee surgery, taking over her laundry schedule was one of the things she asked me to do. In that moment, I knew how my dad felt in taking over the shop. It feels good to be entrusted with the things that are important to someone.

Laundry is not just a chore in my family. It’s how we love each other. It’s the yardstick by which we measure how we’re doing.

So before I call Dad every Sunday, I make sure there is the gentle whir of the washer and dryer in the background, letting him know I’m OK.

I’m writing about keeping house for 31 days.

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I love How To Keep a House While Drowning. The subtitle is “a gentle approach to cleaning and organizing,” and that’s just what I need. I am not motivated by what I should do or someone else’s standard. Frankly, I’m not even motivated by my own standards. 

I am motivated by grace and understanding and generosity, and this book is an abundance of those things.

In the first few pages, Davis starts in with this wisdom: “You don’t exist to serve your space; your space exists to serve you.” Many of my struggles with keeping house are based on my suspicion that I somehow owe my apartment something. But really? I am there because of my needs (to have shelter) and desires (to be cozy af). Therefore, it makes much more sense to approach it in ways that serve this purpose.

When I approach housework as a way of honoring my needs, my perspective shifts. What would make Future Me happy or help her relax? That is why I clean. That is why I declutter. Not to impress some possible guests but to please myself.

Davis also addresses the binary status of done or not done. The point of housework isn’t to mark something as “done.” Now, initially, this offended me to my very core. You know I love marking things off a checklist. But the point of keeping house isn’t to finish, but to keep it functional. If my expectation is that something is finished, I will get frustrated the next time I have to do it again. But if I change my mindset to functionality, the whole process softens into something more sustainable.

The third thing I love about this book is the statement, “Self-care was never meant to be a replacement for community care.” There’s a whole lovely section on this, but one of my takeaways is the reminder that we still need each other. I can do the best I can with every resource and ounce of energy I have and still not finish all the things. It’s not just OK to help each other; it’s critical.

Anyway, this is easily one of my top five favorite books on keeping house. Highly recommend, especially if shame and unreasonable expectations tend to immobilize you. This book will help.

I’m writing about keeing house for 31 days. You can browse the topic list here!

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Well, friends. The day has come. My last day of working for UNT Housing. From my start as a night desk clerk to the leader of our amazing tour team, it’s been a little over 20 years of meeting loads of people I love and helping students feel at home on campus. I’m excited about my new adventure as an academic advisor, though!

Here are some lovely things that have given me much-needed pauses as I plowed through the to-do list of things to make next week easier for the staff.

  • I love this poem by Rudy Franciso. I love the “Amen” chorus from the audience, too. “It’s hard being alive, but it looks so good on you.”
  • I miss Let It Be Sunday, but I love the new Joy the Baker monthly series, The Bakehouse Almanac. I think I shall subscribe to a new analog magazine (for free through my AARP, of course. Because I’m old enough to qualify for AARP, and I have a lot of participation points to burn.)!
  • I am grateful for this reframe of “This Will Be My Year” from Dr. Chanequa Walker-Barnes. Regardless of what happens to me and in the world, did I do my best? Did I take care of myself? Did I take care of my relationships (or, in the case of 2024, did they take exceptionally good care of me)? Did I experience joy? In that light, yes. 2020, 2024, 2025 – each of these has indeed been my year, and I expect that 2026 will be as well. There will be lots of opportunities to practice those four things.
  • There is hope for Patchouli Joe’s! They have a GoFundMe to raise money to transition to a new location. Please donate to help if you can.
  • I love The Residence so much. I wish it had gotten renewed. It was worth every dollar of production costs, and Netflix is a fool. I’m glad these actors are getting recognition for their great work.

And one bonus salve for the weary – A Blessing for the Weak by Nadia Bolz-Weber

Have a good weekend!

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The coziest (and the best) way to ring in the new year? Snacks, wine, comfort of my own home.

I love the Montana Happy newsletter. It’s always full of cozy crafts, recipes, and tips. It’s a much-needed shelter in the storm of the world. In exploring cozy as a theme this year, I am working my way through this list of prompts.

  • Hygge prompt #1 – What advice would you give your younger self with your current knowledge if given a time machine? What changes would you make?

Not that my younger self would have listened…but here goes.

That interdisciplinary major you’re considering during grad school (the one that would give you a foot in the door to library science)? DO IT. You can still teach public speaking and work night desk and be an assignment coordinator. These will be the jobs that give you the best stories and where you will meet some of your favorite people. But it would also be nice to have some sweet librarian training in your back pocket when you’re ready to branch out.

Don’t stop dancing and running. It’s hard to get that momentum back after you lose it, and you will miss it when it’s gone.

Ditto re: playing piano and French horn. 

Don’t sell your French horn. Maybe stick with a digital piano/full-sized keyboard instead of the upright grand, though. That was…a lot.

The pavement on Fry Street is dangerously uneven. Tread cautiously. Your left knee, in particular, will thank you. Also, maybe don’t drink the WHOLE beer tower. Just a thought.

In fact, go ahead and slow down on the drinking in general. One or two glasses of wine at a time is fine, and it is definitely less expensive. If you need to be buzzed to feel comfortable at a place, just leave the place. You could be home and reading. 

We still love home and reading.

You don’t want to live in the downstairs apartment. Having upstairs neighbors is THE WORST.

Look closely for bug problems before you move in. No apartment is cute enough to be worth the hassle of getting rid of an infestation.

Those things that you keep seeing ads for that you think you’d really enjoy having? You won’t. Just keep scrolling. I guarantee there’s a cute cat video coming up, and it’s free.

The cancer diagnosis isn’t the end of the world. You survive, and your friends really come through for you. Go ahead and push for the reconstructive surgery while they have you on the table, though.

When the church you love dissolves, don’t rush into replacing it. Save yourself some religious trauma and take a real break. But keep that weird little liturgical one you visited in the back of your mind. You’re going to love them someday.

I know loneliness sucks. And it will suck for a long time, especially when it seems like everyone around you is pairing off, so buckle up. But don’t waste so much time wanting a partner. Your life is already rich with love, and you will absolutely adore living alone. Once you get there, you will realize that it would take a truly exceptional connection to merit giving that up. Hold out for it.

When you feel like you have to choose between loving others well and wanting to hold them to your own moral code (which, despite everything you’ve been taught, they are not – in any way – obligated to adhere to), choose love. Every time. Your moral code will change as you learn and grow, and you will regret the harm that you did before you knew better. But you will never regret loving extravagantly. 

Love extravagantly.

Love yourself. To quote Tova Goodman’s six-word memoir, “Little me would’ve liked big me.”

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