When the laundry never ends

A quiet thought about the invisible work we do

Folding the same socks again

Some days, the only sign that anything has moved forward is the state of the laundry basket. It starts off full, then slowly empties, only to fill up again like nothing ever happened. I fold the same socks, the same shirts, return them to drawers that will be emptied again by tomorrow.

There is something quietly humbling about it. The work never shouts. It never finishes. It doesn’t come with a round of applause or a visible well done. It just keeps going, soft and unnoticed, while life moves on around it.

The work no one claps for

There is a kind of work we do that no one sees. The dinners made without ceremony, the towels picked up, the inbox cleared, the appointments remembered. There is love in all of it, even if it’s covered in crumbs or shoved in a laundry basket for the fourth time that day.

I used to overlook it. Or worse, feel frustrated by it. As if this kind of repetition meant nothing, because it didn’t look like progress. But maybe I was wrong.

There is a quiet kind of devotion in the things we do without being asked. In the acts of care that hold up the scaffolding of everyday life. It doesn’t show up on a to-do list with a gold star. It doesn’t get photographed. But it holds everything.

Learning to see it differently

I’m slowly learning to stop treating this kind of work like it’s in the way. It is the way. It’s the rhythm of a real life. It may be small and cyclical, but it’s not meaningless.

There is something gentle about learning to see value in the soft, repetitive motions. Whether it’s folding laundry or refilling the dog’s water bowl, these are the things that keep everything moving. Even if they don’t feel like achievements, they are still something. They are still a part of care, of presence, of love.

And I am starting to think that maybe this work, the invisible kind, is not secondary to a good life. Maybe it is the good life. Not the highlight reel, but the quiet, lived-in part we rarely talk about.

A small wondering

So I’m wondering, softly, as I watch the last load tumble in the dryer,
What have you been doing lately that no one sees?
What quiet effort or act of care has gone unnoticed, even by yourself?

And can you, just for a moment, give yourself credit for that?

Because sometimes, the things that keep everything together do not need to be seen. They just need to be lived.

Warm greetings from a probably folding laundry again mom