It’s been a while since I’ve written here at The Laundry Club. I’ve missed this little corner of the internet—and I’ve missed you, whether that’s a whole crowd of readers or just the echo of my own words.

Life has been loud lately. Projects, dreams, goals—they’ve been tugging me in all directions. But laundry? Laundry waits for no one.

While I’ve been building something bigger, I’ve still had to stop every 45 minutes to flip a load, move the wet pile into the dryer, or fish socks out from under the washer. It’s funny how life works like that—you can be chasing your wildest dreams, but the washing machine still sings like clockwork, reminding you that some things don’t pause.

And things get lost. Oh, do they ever. Case in point: my daughter’s one and only cross country jersey disappeared. Gone. Vanished. The whole house went on a search mission. After four days of panic, stress, and everyone asking, “Did you check the laundry?”—there it was. Twisted up tight in the corner of a fitted sheet like it had been plotting against us the whole time. I had to laugh. Isn’t that just life? The important things sometimes get tangled up, hidden in the folds of everything else we’re carrying.

Then came the spout of illness. You know the drill: everyone’s bedding stripped, every blanket and pillowcase tossed in, hot water on full blast because germs aren’t welcome here. The laundry room looked like a textile battlefield. I was drowning in piles, but it was all for a reason—keeping my family healthy. Priorities shift fast when someone spikes a fever, don’t they?

And of course, there were the smaller, everyday frustrations. The “favorite shirts” that vanish into another dimension. The “clean” laundry that sits unfolded for three days until someone just digs into it like it’s a rummage sale. The towels that somehow never make it from the basket to the bathroom. I swear the laundry multiplies when you’re not looking.

But here’s the thing: even in the chaos, I realize how much laundry mirrors life. The rhythm of sorting, washing, folding—it’s the rhythm of showing up. Sometimes it’s exhausting, sometimes it’s thankless, but it’s also the quiet background beat of love, of care, of keeping things together so that the bigger dreams have room to grow.

So yes, I’ve been absent here, but I’ve been right in the middle of it all—folding, untangling, washing, rinsing, searching and repeating. Laundry isn’t glamorous, but it’s honest. And maybe that’s why I always find myself coming back here, to write about it, to laugh about it, and to remind myself (and maybe you too) that life isn’t just in the big goals we chase. It’s in the small, stubborn piles that never go away.

Final Spin:

I know the world is crazy—I’ve been watching the news, too. A reminder: the only thing that should ever be separated by color is the laundry. Treat each other like the delicate cycle, and handle one another with care.

Support The Laundry Club Blog — because in a world this messy, someone’s gotta keep the spin cycle of sanity going. Your support helps me wash, rinse, and write through the chaos—one load of truth and tumble of humanity at a time.