Despite a very busy last weekend for the Reverend Doctor’s birthday, the Sweet Miss ViVi still had piles and piles of dirty clothes separated on our bedroom floor for staging before laundering.  And then on Monday morning, voila!  Clean slacks and t-shirts and undies and such!

And she does this week after week, month after month, year after year for all us boys.  She doesn’t get to escape to an outside job like so many women do nowadays, because we both agreed years ago our kids (if we ever got around to having them) would have their mom at home with them.  So this is her career, which so many people disparage as being unfulfilling and lacking challenge and reward.

And I’m sure it’s all that for my beautiful wife fairly regularly.  But my boys have their mom when they need her, and I know the best person possible is taking care of them during the day when I’m in the salt mine.

So thank you for all that you do for us, dear.  My t-shirt I’m wearing still feels wonderful, fifteen hours after I put it on, because I know you cleaned it for me.

Postscript:  and the lifetime achievement award in the same category goes to Dooley, my mom, who did the same thing — but with seven kids, not two!  I’ll especially never forget her hand-washing our basketball practice clothes and game uniforms most nights during high school, hanging them down in the basement where the woodstove dried them so they’d be ready for the duffle bag the next morning.  Thanks, Mom.