Aye Dios Mio! Laundry. Everywhere there’s laundry. Overflowing. Running wild. Spilling out my ears! Bright red. Canary yellow. Turquoise. Parquet green. Tower of downy soft towels. Never ending. Mucho trabajo. “Washer number seven.” “Dryer number eleven.” Trills the boss lady. Tee-shirts. Jeans. Baby blankets. Long socks. Sports socks. A strangers “cute” lacy panties. Not so cute when the need – Wash. Dry. Fold. And bag. Aching back. Feet hurt. Arms like windmills. As they wind up king size sheets. God, can you hear ME up there? I need you to help me endure. This endless task. So bread will be on my table.