No matter how often I wash clothes, by the end of the day there is ALWAYS more. I fought that battle for years and years, and I’m sorry to say that I my defenses are weakening. The war will rage on for my entire life (unless the money fairy grants me a maid armed with a tank and laundry soap) and I will continue to lose a majority of these times. Once in a while, the laundry monster yields to my frantic plans of getting everything clean in one day–including new bed sheets all around–taking up my entire duty-free Saturday. And during the summer, I hang the clothes up on the line proudly displaying my latest kill.
Except socks. I refuse to hang up socks. I’m not that crazy.
Once I decided it wasn’t worth the fight, it became easy to get things accomplished. I had to decide what was important and say to hell with the rest. Playing with the kids instead of sweeping the floor is worth it. As long as the toilet isn’t overflowing with mold and other disgusting floaters or clingers, then I can live with it. Dishes? One evening of sink-filled, crusty plates is okay. I can get it tomorrow and actually get the dishwasher up to it’s capacity for once.
I like having a clean house but seriously, with three kids under the age of 10, it’s just not going to happen. Until I discovered they can help with many of the chores. The middle one gathers dirty clothes and sorts them while the oldest
slave child feeds and waters the dog. When it’s time to actually empty the dishwasher because I actually filled it, they are more than capable of putting them away. The youngest can even put his own clothes away in a neat little blob of clothes that barely fit in his drawers.
Or, blackmail works just as well.
“You have two choices. You can finish the laundry or go to bed,” I say, dangling the hope of staying up later in front of him.
“Good night, mom!” as he dashes into his bedroom.
But at least I got an extra half hour of down time after I put the clothes in the dryer. Nah, they can sit in the dryer all night and get wrinkled. Who irons anymore? Besides, I don’t have room to take them out since the basket’s already full of the socks I just dried three days ago.
I finally figured out that it’s all about perspective. The sticky spot on the floor isn’t that bothersome, and there will be a new one to replace the very next day if I try to clean it up anyway. I might as well wait until something spurs me to really clean. Like company. Just give me an hour before you decide to drop in for a visit.