I have laundry up to my eyeballs. That isn't a figurative statement. Not only is my hamper overflowing, The Boy has laundry obstructing the entry of his domain (and stacked as high as his bottom bunk), and The Girl has no clothing-free space on her floor. It doesn't stop there, though. In the hallway, in front of the laundry area, there are two more overflowing hampers in front of the washing machine. Did I mention the washer and dryer are both empty?
Really, in all honesty, I don't mind washing laundry. Sorting, separating, loading the washer, moving clothes to the dryer, loading the washer again... I don't mind any of that. So why? Why is there so much laundry? It's simple, really. Folding and putting away.
I am currently engaged in a seemingly never ending cycle of moving clean clothes from the bed (to fold) to the baskets (yes, multiple). This cycle has been repeating itself over and over again for at least a week. Each morning, with good intention (P.S. My Dad says the road to hell is paved with good intention.), I dump multiple baskets full (heaping) onto my bed, planning to fold them before I pick the kids up from school. Each night, I reload the baskets, removing the clothes from my bed so I can crawl in and attempt to sleep (whole other Oprah). For the first few days, I felt bad, maybe a little guilty. After all, the linen closet is completely absent of any towels. Today, however, no guilt. As I write, I am staring at the mountain of clothes, convincing myself there is no time to fold it all. Not when I have to pick the kids up at 3:00. Not when I have to work at 5:00.
I would say maybe tomorrow, but I really have no intention. Maybe Monday? Keep your fingers crossed....
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