I always imagine sisyphus, damned to an eternity of pushing his boulder up a hill only for it to roll back down when the top is near. But it isn’t actually a boulder. It is a ball of laundry that gets progressively dirty and tangled, and when they get to the point of too dirty and unwearable, the ball of clothes unravels and falls down to the bottom, only to be washed/folded and begin their climb again…