Is it Sunday already?
Time for laundry.
First the whites.
One. Two. Three. Four.
Four. Four. Four. Four.
Morning- Afternoon- Evening- Night.
Spring- Summer- Autumn- Winter.
Four is the best of all even numbers.
Two is OK too.
But four is satisfying.
Sorting through the clothes I try to make four piles.
There aren’t enough.
I walk around the house.
Sheets I changed just yesterday.
Cushion covers I can’t throw in, they have to be hand washed.
No. Not on Sunday.
Curtains are slotted for Wednesday, the middle of the week, for curtains separate tranquility from the bedlam out there.
This room has not been used for years now.
I spot the bears sitting there.
One. Two. Three.
I am not happy with three.
I did try.
Everything does not work the way I want it to.
These bears need a spin in the machine.
Now how do I do this?
The big ones go together.
Where do I put the little one?
The little one is always the problem.
Another one would’ve…
The set would have been perfect.
It’s my fault.
Four would have held everything together.