For three months, I walked past towels I never needed. When I finally folded them, I caught myself performing for an audience that doesn't exist. My mother's dead. The neighbor's not coming. So who th
I fold my towels for me. My nervous system needs order. They aren’t folded perfectly, but they are folded and put away because otherwise I’d be out of sync. We’re all wired differently which I find refreshing. Here’s to clean towels no matter where or how we keep them.
I fold my towels because, like ironing I find it soothing and it’s pleasant to open a closet door and see linens organized. My mother folded in rage and anger I fold in a more contemplative way. I agree though if you have walked by a basket of towels for three months without use they probably have no place in your house. I find nothing wrong with spending the time keeping my house in order. Not in a fanatic way but visiting rooms regularly and noting what needs to be done. Watering of plants, changing linens, washing a sink. It’s part of the privilege and honour of home stewardship no matter how humble the abode. Like a good relationship, maintenance is important, it can begin with a towel that is folded for storage or to be given away. My husband is a better folder than I so he regularly takes on the job…putting away is his nemesis.
Thank you for sharing this — I love that you’ve reclaimed folding as a contemplative act, especially in contrast to what you witnessed growing up. That’s powerful.
In my case, the towels were more than towels. It wasn’t really about folding vs. not folding — it was about recognizing the quiet, inherited scripts that still play out in the background of our lives. The basket became a metaphor for all the tasks we continue to do — or feel guilt for not doing — because someone once told us that “a good woman keeps things tidy.”
The post wasn’t about housework. It was about choosing intention over performance. About deciding who we’re still trying to impress… and realizing maybe, just maybe, we don’t need to.
Excuse me but I don’t know another way to reach you. First, thank you very much for touching my heart. I cry almost every time I read your work as it is awakening me to myself. I’ve been wandering the world the past 4 months alone after a horrific break up that I did not see coming (currently in Albania). Your writing is really giving me some much needed reality checks. What I actually came here to say though, is I really have been wanting to read your evolving Clara? story and don’t know how to access it. Peace and luminescence 🌠
I hope you write about your travels someday, with this new vantage. Beoming Clara can be found here: https://www.monirosesoul.com/s/becomingclara however I am behind. I did not post a new chapter this week. I think we are up to 10 chapters now. I'll return to Clara after the holidays. Be safe, be well. And thank so very much for giving me your time and attention.
I fold my towels for me. My nervous system needs order. They aren’t folded perfectly, but they are folded and put away because otherwise I’d be out of sync. We’re all wired differently which I find refreshing. Here’s to clean towels no matter where or how we keep them.
I fold my towels because, like ironing I find it soothing and it’s pleasant to open a closet door and see linens organized. My mother folded in rage and anger I fold in a more contemplative way. I agree though if you have walked by a basket of towels for three months without use they probably have no place in your house. I find nothing wrong with spending the time keeping my house in order. Not in a fanatic way but visiting rooms regularly and noting what needs to be done. Watering of plants, changing linens, washing a sink. It’s part of the privilege and honour of home stewardship no matter how humble the abode. Like a good relationship, maintenance is important, it can begin with a towel that is folded for storage or to be given away. My husband is a better folder than I so he regularly takes on the job…putting away is his nemesis.
Be well and Merry Christmas.
Thank you for sharing this — I love that you’ve reclaimed folding as a contemplative act, especially in contrast to what you witnessed growing up. That’s powerful.
In my case, the towels were more than towels. It wasn’t really about folding vs. not folding — it was about recognizing the quiet, inherited scripts that still play out in the background of our lives. The basket became a metaphor for all the tasks we continue to do — or feel guilt for not doing — because someone once told us that “a good woman keeps things tidy.”
The post wasn’t about housework. It was about choosing intention over performance. About deciding who we’re still trying to impress… and realizing maybe, just maybe, we don’t need to.
Excuse me but I don’t know another way to reach you. First, thank you very much for touching my heart. I cry almost every time I read your work as it is awakening me to myself. I’ve been wandering the world the past 4 months alone after a horrific break up that I did not see coming (currently in Albania). Your writing is really giving me some much needed reality checks. What I actually came here to say though, is I really have been wanting to read your evolving Clara? story and don’t know how to access it. Peace and luminescence 🌠
I hope you write about your travels someday, with this new vantage. Beoming Clara can be found here: https://www.monirosesoul.com/s/becomingclara however I am behind. I did not post a new chapter this week. I think we are up to 10 chapters now. I'll return to Clara after the holidays. Be safe, be well. And thank so very much for giving me your time and attention.