Sunday Routine
It's Sunday evening, early; I've eaten, so has my dog, Bailey. She's busy pouting in my general direction from her chair - yes, she's claimed it as hers, unequivocally, as is the corner of the sectional. There is no debate.
I'm folding the first load of laundry - it's darks, also the biggest load of the three that I ran. It was only two baskets but I had to split the darks in two because our washer isn't big enough. I'm also listening to music, something I do quite a lot every day. Tonight is different though, because I chose the music instead of a music director, or worse, an algorithm.
I put five CD's in the CD player this morning and I've worked my way to disc 4 - Ray Lamontagne & the Pariah Dogs. This album is called "God Willin' & The Creek Don't Rise". I don't remember when I got it, but I'm pretty sure it was on a free CD table at work to clear out someone's office. Apparently I never bothered to rip it to my digital library, but I've rectified that now. It lives on my hard drive in a lossless audio codec.
The album started off as a rough, gravely sound only to give way to a soft, melodic voice (it reminds me of Ben Harper), giving way to a lonely guitar and harmonica backing the lead vocalist - who is presumably, Ray Lamontagne.
It feels oddly fitting. Before I started folding laundry, life was rough, full of problems and bumps in the road. As I fall deeper into the trance of routine, the problems vanish. Now I'm focusing on how this one shirt won't fold quite right. Why do I always have trouble folding? How come my wife is so good at it?
By the end the room is bathed in golden sunlight from the front of the house. The outdoors is begging for my attention. So is Bailey. The music is picking up pace and getting gravelly again. Life hasn't fully intruded yet but I feel it coming.
Luckily, there is still one more load of laundry to fold.
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