Red Sheets

I awake in the morning and stumble into the hallway. I am greeted by a familiar site. Damp red sheets in a clumsy pile next to a pair of size five pajamas. Groggy, I haul the dirty bed linens to the kitchen only to find both washer and dryer full. Of course they are.

A few minutes later the dry clothing is in a basket, the wet clothes are spinning in the dryer and I am loading red sheets into the washer...again.

I watch red sheets spinning in soapy circles. They taunt me.

Nah-nah-nah-nah-boo-boo, they tease.

It's as if the sheets are sticking out a wet tongue and flapping their crimson hands around cotton ears .

The laundry will never be done, they sneer.

You'll have to send your son off to college with extra large, industrial strength Pull -Ups, they laugh.

The next good night sleep won't be for a minimum of six years, they promise.

These red sheets, purchased for their cheerful color now serve as a glowing neon sign reminding me that a mother's work is never done.