How to Fold Laundry Without Touching It

Two weekends ago, my husband and I spent a full ten hours without our children, leaving them home with someone we trusted their lives with while going to a wedding.

I got myself all dolled up, which I only do once in a blue moon. Of course, once I had my nail polish on I realized I had a load of laundry ready in the drier to be folded. They had been drying for about ten minutes, but I was not yet confident in their holding power.

Gingerly, I opened the drier with my shoe, then used my elbows to get the clothing out. Then, using the flat edges of my fingers, I carefully folded the laundry without fully touching any with my nails.

As we were getting ready to leave, I could hear the baby on the monitor, talking to herself as she always does when she wakes from a nap. Should I say goodbye? I decided that her pre-nap nursing had been enough of a goodbye. I would just upset her further by saying hello and then leaving.

The wedding was at St. Rose of Lima in Massapequa, where we had married fifteen years ago. Just being there together was a blessing for us. So were the little-known scripture from Tobit, a beautifully sung “El Shaddai” and “Ave Maria”, and a poem about hands used at the end. My husband was so thankful that it was a nuptial Mass. Someone was keeping careful time – I heard someone murmur that it was a full hour and fifteen minutes. What did that matter? Most people skipped the Mass and headed directly for the reception.

In the middle of the reception, I found that I had sat in something black and sticky. I tried to get it off, unsuccessfully, leaving a large water spot on my long, silky lavender dress. Thankfully for me, the reception place was so dark that no one seemed to notice.

During cocktail hour, we found a table on a lovely outdoor Spanish-like patio and loaded our plates with shrimp, lobster, and mussels. Once ushered into the ballroom, there was a full half hour in which Kevin and I were able to dance to old school traditional wedding music. Later it would turn into a techo-garble disco, around 11:30 as we were ready to leave anyway.

We arrived home just a little after midnight, just after I lost my glass slipper and my coach turned into a pumpkin.

Painting: The Marriage Feast at Cana, Jan Steen, 1655/70
For Biblical Story see John 2:1-12