The Laundry is Back

It is happening again. Laundry is taking over my bedroom, my house, and my life. I literally have run out of clothes. I have been accused once or twice in the past of crying wolf when I say I have nothing to wear (usually while staring into my closet busting with clothes – some with the tags still on them, but that’s a different post). But this morning, I woke up and for the first time in my life I actually, literally, honest to God had not one pair of pants to wear. I grabbed a skirt, got all the way dressed, and realized I had run my last pair of tights last week and even though it LOOKS like spring outside, it is still only 50 degrees so you can’t go without tights yet.

Fighting the urge to just crawl back in bed and call in to work naked, I took a moment to survey our house.

Clothes were everywhere. On our dining room table (those were clean, just not folded yet), on our side table (those were socks, which Molly has stolen half of and I still can’t find where she’s hidden them), on our coffee table (those were two socks I actually caught Molly stealing and took away from her). They were inside, on top of, and in a 4 ft. radius around the hamper. There was a pile of pants on my dresser that I pulled out last week to take to a tailor (thanks to a suggestion from a lovely reader of this humble blog). There was a pile of dry cleaning clothes in the chair in our bedroom, which Lucy has dug a nice tunnel into and is now living in. There were clothes so deep on our floor that I had to dig a path to my closet and then I had to dig an area around the door so that I could open it.

CLOTHES ARE EVERYWHERE!

Let me tell you what this does to me. Physically, it has tripped me on multiple occasions and has caused me to stop speaking to my worthless husband until he helps and does a load of laundry (well, he’s not really worthless, but I’m mad at him so I’m allowed to embellish). Mentally it is just exhausting. I come home after a long day and it is such a depressing sight to see. Just another something I need to take care of.

Well, I can’t take it anymore. If I come home today and the situation isn’t any better, then I’m packing it all up and dropping it off at the cleaners. For $100 they’ll clean, iron, and starch my stress away. Chris may divorce me, but that’s a risk I’m willing to take.