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85 The Meaning of Life In the Clorox commercial there’s a stream of washing machines, one after another morphing from practical white to candy apple red, folks doing laundry in a continuum from 1913, long before I was here, back when Clorox came in amber bottles, before the white plastic jug, before trash became ecological and green. Aproned mothers—later men and women less defined, all part of this strange but comforting continuity. And the washing machines, from wringers to dials to touch pads but all with the same purpose—get the dirt out. It makes me feel a part of the great pajama drawstring, a long thread that I’ve held, and after I’m gone, will have been a part of. It comforts me to know that Clorox bleaches out stains, even the ones left behind. ...

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