Some things never change: Monday is washday. No, my parents don't have a drier, preferring the smell of fresh air dried clothes. This makes a lot of sense in summer - at this time of the year it makes for a rather crowded kitchen. My father chopping up stuff for a salad in the background. Monday - cold meat (or, as tonight, cold chicken); baked potatoes, salad, And that, too, has been the same for the last 54 years that my parents have lived in this house. There's something extremely comforting about it.
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