The Threads That Bind Us

It occurred to me today, as I was folding laundry, that all of us fold laundry. It's somewhat akin to taking a shit, or putting your pants on one leg at a time (a funny phrase, that-- I cannot be the only person who often sits down on the bed, puts her pants on halfway both legs at a time, then stands up to finish the job.)

I was thinking about how all of us, no matter how different we are, fold laundry. The crusty-haired crack head at the laundromat, the new young dad high on fatherhood, the cranky businesswoman, the harried mom with a baby on her hip and toddler at her side. Hands of all sorts shake and fold clothes of all sorts, all so foreign to each other they might not belong to the same planet, or similar as sisters living next door to one another who had their kids a week apart.

Then of course it occurred to me that not all people fold laundry after all. Some are so rich as to have others hired to do it for them. What a strange world we live in, that shines with every color on the spectrum, eh?

Then again, many crusty-haired crack heads probably don't fold laundry either.

It's interesting to think of all the different things people think of to occupy themselves while tackling a task such as laundry folding.

Clearly, my mind wanders.