Everyday ArtistsThe world's greatest artists walk you through simple, everyday tasks.
There has never been a soul that enjoyed the clutches of dirty clothing and the steps required to accomplish the other. Every action needs to be prompted by a motive. And the motive here is to not smell of must, or worse. But also take heed that the noblest pleasure is the joy of an empty hamper. But it lives in solitude mere hours, which become the greatest hours of human existence.
Moving into that which we do, go with the fervor of St. Jerome into the wilderness. Just as food eaten without appetite is a tedious nourishment, so does laundry without zeal damage the memory by not assimilating what it absorbs.
To begin, there are four Powers: Liquid and powder, dryer and air. The two first are consciousness, the others sensory. The three senses: sight, hearing, and smell, cannot well be prevented from input, while taste and touch are accomplices not to be forgotten.
Begin with the consciousness of detergent, the substance of which determines the cycle. What buttons exist do so for the purpose of what you’ve been given. Wash. Wash! And for those clamorous on handwashing, know the greatest deception humanity suffers is from their own hand-washed clothes. The barrel does the work, spend yours elsewhere.
When the buzzer sounds, take heed immediately. Leave not the clothes in the washer, unattended, for too long. Wet clothes turn to stank from disuse, water loses its purity in stagnation… even so does inaction sap the vigor of the mind.
Separate the question of procession by that which needs drying in any given way.
As every divided kingdom falls, so every mind divided between high heat and low heat confounds and saps itself. Medium is not an answer, it is a cowardly retreat. Are there dry fits in the company? Delicates? Low heat. For to high heat and risk shrinkage is to expose the midsection when you do the Vitruvian Man, as I know you do. If it is only cotton, or shrunken already? High heat will bring you the adoration of the magi.
Thus the artistry continues until the buzzer sounds again. And it is then, upon the buzzer sounded twice, that we must take courage, though knowing that just as courage imperils life, fear protects it. A healthy fear of what falls from the dryer door protects clothes from sullying themselves in eagerness. Fools! Cram them not into a basket or bag. Wrinkles and creases do mislead us. O! Wretched mortals, fold your clothes!
Speaking thusly, I love those who can smile as Mona Lisa while folding clothes, who can gather strength from wrinkles, and grow brave by distraught collars. ‘Tis the business of little minds to shrink, but they whose heart is firm, and whose conscience approves their conduct, will pursue their principles unto death.
If thou disputes the importance of a dispelling wrinkles, know only that while a beautiful body perishes, a quality, creaseless button-down shirt dies not.
There is naught else to do here but rejoice in that which is done. Celebrate successes as though they were ermines, and you the lady. Though keep silent, or to a dull murmur. Where there is shouting, there is no true knowledge. Remember also that he who wishes to smell of fresh linens in a day will be sopped in muck in a year.