It all started with some new towels I bought for the kids at Home Goods, to replace the old ratty ones that had seen better days (12 years ago). The new ones are plain white, 750 grams (whatever that means), soft, luxurious towels, that can be bleached. I love them.
The towels inspired me to clean out my teeny tiny linen closet, which led, somehow, to me finally cleaning up the corner of the laundry room that houses the washer and dryer, which is how I came to the unsettling realization that I might not just be unorganized, but lazy. Do you realize, for the last five years the top shelf over my washer/dryer has housed a wooden board, two Rubbermaid container lids, a broken fan and an empty trashcan? I’m wondering why it’s taken me so long to move these utterly useless items?
It’s not like I never thought about the washer and dryer. The original plan was to turn them to the side, stack them, and then reattach the closet doors, which don’t fit with the washer and dryer side by side. I even have the stacking kit, purchased three years ago, to prove it.
However, the plan was scrapped after my husband almost killed himself trying to attach a longer plug on the dryer, when two wires that weren’t supposed to touch, touched. It’s as close to fireworks in the house that we’ve ever come (and ever hope to be).
I’m not sure if that’s an excuse or not, but I can’t think of any other explanation as to why I haven’t cleaned it before today (unless, of course, I go with that laziness thing).
Some of you may say, big deal, so you cleaned your laundry room. But to me, it is a big deal. Messy laundry rooms and I have a long history. Let me tell you a story (that I should probably be embarrassed to tell you, but what the hell, we’re friends, right?).
Just around the same time that I bought those old towels, my little brother was getting ready to leave for his first year of college. I had planned to go with the rest of my family to move him in, until I got some sort of flu, which I blame my little brother for in the first place. You see, he had went to Woodstock, and a day or two after returning, had come down with a fever. I was visiting him, at my mom’s, the day he fell ill, and even though I high tailed it out of there, a few days later, he was fine, leaving for Richmond, VA, and I was in bed, delirious with a fever.
So, there I was, miserable and bedridden, my boyfriend (now husband) at work and my family out of state. Graciously, my friend came over to check on me to see if I needed anything. Convinced I was dying and too sick to give a damn about the state of my house, I gratefully accepted her offer. That’s how she ended up cleaning my laundry room.
How did it come to that? I don’t exactly know. All I know, is that for some reason she walked in my laundry room, discovered my dirty little secret, rolled up her sleeves and went to work.
Of course, only because she was a true friend, she did not let this gesture go unnoticed. As I lay in bed, delirious, she periodically looked in on me to convey her utter disbelief, throwing around words like “disgusting” and “trash can for lint”.
Nothing like a little shame to keep you in check. I never allowed my laundry to get that dirty again.
Of course, that doesn’t mean that I’ve actually kept it organized, that is, until yesterday. Here’s the results of all my hard work. First, the long view.The previously underutilized shelves that housed that mysterious piece of wood.And the close-up, of one of my favorite gifts that First Son made for me when he was in preschool. It’s nice to have something I love looking at while doing such a mundane task. And yes, we’re in a cemetery, but not because anyone died.Now that you know what a (hopefully, reformed) slob I truly am, I must go and continue the clean. You know the old saying, strike while the iron is hot.