Sundays. Sundays used to be the only laundry day but now that he's back, it's Saturdays as well because Sally's dress and Richard's blue vest can't be washed with his white shirts for his Monday morning meetings. And the salmon colored dinner set no longer sits on the second shelf. Second shelf, third cabinet to the right of the stove. No it's on the fourth shelf. The forth because he doesn't like it when things are not where they used to be before he left. Before he left, dinner was at seven not six. And my beige heels tapping across the kitchen floor was the signal for dinner time. Not the patter of bare feet. And I wash my hands twice before serving dinner. Just incase. Just incase he can still smell the oil and the stench of regret despite the lavender soap. Red. The red bandana no longer smells of sweat, instead it's stiff with Bruce's cleaning wax but it still has yet to see the inside of a trash can. Because I like the color red. It’s my color, not his or Richards or Sally’s. And it's not the big things. It's the small things that he says, she says, they say... I do. Like shoving my uniform into the storage closet where only decaying photographs and linens lay. It's the silence. The time. The waiting. The waiting for 2:45 to pick up Salleygrabfrozenveggiesfordinnerhelprichardwithhomeworkchangethetableclothwashthesheets and set the table. Before he gets home. It's the silence. Like pots and plans silence. Like sweeping the floor silence. Like static silence, because your only co-worker is The Voice and on rainy days static replaces its rhythmic hum. It's the pay-check, at the end of the week. Check made out for good mom, hot wife, docile girl and zero cents. It's the blue silence. The lack of metal clanking in the background and motors humming. It's the emptiness. They say I got a case of the housewife blues. They say I got a case of the housewife blues and that Rosie is dead because she caught the flu… that her husband gave her. That's what the doctor said. But Sundays. Sundays used to be the only laundry day, but now that he's back it's Saturdays as well because Sally's dresses and Richard's blue vest can't be washed with his white shirts for his Monday morning meetings.