laundry

Andy and I went to a lover's workshop in November. It was lovely. A wonderful basis for introducing NVC to our relationship with each other and our daughter. At one point, each of us was to write about an incident that still lingers, and is present for each of us. Andy wrote about how I accuse him of "ruining" my clothes.

Today, I awoke to 3 of my shirts folded on the dresser. 2 dried on the line ~ not thrilled that he did them, but maybe not "ruined". The 3rd, a black tee, obviously washed and dried to the state of a limp rag. I was unreasonably furious.

I stood at the sink of dirty dinner dishes (probably another good reason to shine your sink at night), and suddenly had a hint of a deja vu. I usually have mundane deja vus, and think of them as markers along the path. Today, I wondered at the significance of this moment ~ is this the day, perhaps, I lose my marriage over a ruined shirt? Hmm.