There’s something oddly satisfying about doing laundry late at night. Maybe it’s the quiet. Maybe it’s the smell of clean clothes. Or maybe it’s the fact that I finally feel like I have a moment to breathe. 😌
Last night, I threw a load into the washer, brewed some tea, and played a lo-fi playlist on Spotify. The kind with rain sounds and vinyl crackles in the background. 🎶 I sat on the floor in a hoodie, matching socks (for once!), and just let the evening be what it was.
Laundry can be weirdly emotional. You find that one shirt you thought you lost. A stain you don’t remember. The jeans that no longer feel like you. You fold, sort, and somehow your mind starts doing the same. Sorting memories. Folding away old thoughts.
I used to hate chores. Still not a fan, honestly. But I’ve come to appreciate these late-night sessions. It’s just me and the sound of the drum spinning. Like life is turning over, fresh and warm, one tumble at a time.
I know it sounds silly. But last night, sipping tea, folding clothes, and nodding along to a beat that felt like a heartbeat — it felt good. No rush. No noise. Just a small moment of peace wrapped in cotton and steam. ☁️🫖