Lavering mes vetements

After 6 days of school per week, I like to do nothing on Sunday. Hanging out with Erin, Jennifer or Jamie is honestly the most I feel like doing.
It doesn't feel better to talk in English--there's no great relief. I'm honestly just too lazy to want to speak in French on my day of rest.
The point is: God rested on Sunday (or whatever God's 7th day was) and so do I.
Except yesterday.
My host family is nice. Papa and mama--and yes, I must call them that--are very patient avec moi. In such a fashion, my Mama matter-of-factly told me earlier in the week that I was washing my clothes Sunday. And, wash my clothes on Sunday is what I did.
Washing my clothes, by hand, has englightened me in two very important ways.
To begin with; I know why I was born in the 21st century. If I had been born in a time where I had to wash my clothes by hand for my entire life--I would honestly walk around naked.
It took me 4 hours to wash 3 pair of pants, 1 pair of shorts, 3 t shirts, and 10 pair of socks. I have already decided I am only washing my clothes every 2 weeks because I am too lazy to wash them more often.
Secondly, I have a whole new appreciation for the saying "walk a mile in their shoes." . I walked a mile in a washing machine's shoes. I walked that mile for 4 hours. I can say without reservation that I have a new-found love and respect for words like "Spin cycle," "Rinse cycle," "Soak" and the word "repeat" will always have a traumatizingly special meaning to me. When I return to the states, the first thing I'm going to do, save hugging Robert, is hug the washing machine. Hug it and thank it and call the company that produced it and thank them. After that, I'm going to call the local paper and ask them to write a story about the genius of washing machines because I will always tear up with joy as I put my clothes into that wonderful machine and let it do it's magic.
But for now, I'll use my knuckles.