by Frances Tate Check weather forecast. Cast skeptical eyes skyward. Flip a coin. Load washing machine. Finger hovers, nuclear nervous over the start button. Commit… door locks, water rushes. No going back now. Cycle completes. Dozens of socks and smalls damply dangle like chandelier pendants from two, one-hook carousels; the washing line equivalent of a cyclist’s quick-release wheel. I promote Read More