Playing house - then and now

I remember well my first kitchen.  Not the one within which my mother cooked for my sister and I, but my kitchen.  It was, I recall, reasonably well equipped.  Everything one needed had its own place.  All neat and tidy, and matching.  I can't recall how anything smelt, or tasted, but it all looked pretty good.  

These days I don't derive quite the same pleasure from the ordinary business of day to day housekeeping.  In truth, probably too little time is spent 'keeping house'.  But this is more to do with the schedule of activities that take me beyond the front door, than sheer dislike.  

I don't, in fact, dislike many of the activities that sometimes get very bad press.  And this was what got me thinking about what it is, that I have come to appreciate about the apparently mundane.  After all, it is the day to day that we find ourselves doing most days.  It is rare for me to spend extended periods of time in catered accommodation, so cooking and cleaning are, for the time being, somewhat inevitable.  Better therefore, to become acquainted with what it is about these tasks that I don't dislike (non accidental double negative).

Laundry is actually something of a pleasure for me.  I enjoy the stages it involves.  Collecting, sorting, and then actually getting down to it.  Leaving it in the temporary care of the washing machine, and coming back to fresh smelling clothes and bedlinen.  I don't have a washing machine that tells me how long the cycle has remaining, but know the various tempos well enough now to forecast the conclusion of the rinse, the commencement of the spin and the click of the door lock as it releases.  

I find the predictability comforting.  I do my part, and the machine does its part.  It is a thoroughly complementary process.  Hanging things out, particularly in the recently clement weather, is another pleasure.  I am fortunate to have outside space and have come to understand why my mother has always used her tumble dryer so sparingly.  Returning to aired and dried laundry is, I think, something of an underrated pastime.  I derive no end of pleasure in the reunion - meeting my clothes revived and anew, waiting to be returned to the places they call home, folded on shelves or hung in the wardrobe.  

Rituals and routines of this kind feel safe, and grounding.  I can derive satisfaction and even a mild sense of accomplishment as I go.  Often it is the state of mind that I bring to the activity that influences my state of mind during and afterwards.  If I can embrace the task with attention and presence, I am likely to engage with it in a different manner; I am reminded of the curiosity with which I prepared and cooked in my first kitchen.  The difference is remarkable.