Any given Wednesday. Or is it Thursday?

The laundry is splooshing away. Again. I haven't done any in awhile since the threat of rain has been looming. The kidlet had a meltdown this a.m. because I wouldn't let her wear the same dirty clothes to school that she wore yesterday. Not that it would make any difference. I'm surprised the other moms haven't taken up a collection for her. The poor little street urchin. I imagine too soon she'll be locking herself away in the bathroom for hours on end gazing at her reflection in the toothpaste spattered mirror like Narcissus at the lake. Wailing about freckles or blemishes or imperfect teeth when apparently water and soap are the enemy at the moment. I remember that age. That air of homelessness. But I had an excuse. All the kids in school looked like that. We were farm kids and everybody had cow shit on them. You couldn't avoid it. Every once in awhile we'd take a proper bath but we had a creek that seemed sufficient during the summer months. We didn't think about the dairy farms up river with their bovine flotsam. I don't ever remember my parents forcing the issue either. I know we had a bathtub because water froze in it one winter. Having a bath in the winter was a big deal apparently. Ah, the good old days.