My grandmother has a laundry chute. It’s always been a fascinating thing to me. As children, my brother and I would test the chute’s capabilities. See where the towel or stuffed animal ended up in her basement. And always, it landed softly, in a heap, right next to her washer and dryer.

I’ve really wanted a laundry chute too. With each child added to the family, the desire grew. With each step I heaved those overflowing baskets up and down the steps. I needed it.

One morning the bathroom towels were backed up. Too much. Too heavy to heft. So I tossed them. I avoided the steps. With great abandon I threw them over the banister.

It was then I realized ā€“ I had my laundry chute! All this time it was right there. The towels landed in a heap, just steps from the laundry room door.

I’ve passed on the laundry chute habit to the children. Who wants to toss the laundry? Someone always volunteers.

Who knew tossing laundry could elicit such joy? Just look out below!