But Where Will We Pile Our Clothes?

This is my loveseat today.

But Where Will We Pile Our Laundry at ASlobComesClean.com

This was my loveseat before last night.

Clean, Piled, Seating-Space-Stealing Laundry at ASlobComesClean.com

Now in my (lame) defense, that was not a current before picture. That was a day-after-Christmas before picture.

We had come home on the afternoon of Christmas Eve after spending two days with my family. We baked cookies (and more), opened our family gifts, awakened on Christmas morning to find what Santa brought, and left by 11 a.m. to spend Christmas Day and evening with the in-laws.

I’m pretty sure this picture was taken AFTER the two-hour nap we took when we got home.

The point of the picture is the laundry pile. And how it was there the day after Christmas and was still there last night. Last night, we finally had a lovely Family Folding Time and cleared it off.

Wait. Haven’t I shared/bragged about how I don’t make Clean Laundry Piles anymore? How my world has been rocked by the Put It Away Immediately Out of the Dryer method?

Well, yes. I have.

It’s just that my family hasn’t quite caught on to that life-changing concept yet.

And when things get crazy and Hubby offers to run a few loads of laundry so we’ll have non-stinky clothes to wear to Grandma’s house, I’m not going to complain that he doesn’t do things exactly how I do them.

I might have had to bite my tongue a little, but I didn’t complain.

I saved my self-righteous speech-giving for later.

At the furniture store.

See, I’ve been noticing lately how our family is growing. Not in numbers, but in size. I have one who will be a teenager in LESS than a year (yikes!) and another close behind that. Even with the loveseat generally sit-on-able, our lounge space doesn’t really fit the family. So I’ve decided I want to get two small recliners to replace the loveseat.

As we shopped over Christmas break, my daughter exclaimed in alarm . . . “But where will we put the clean laundry?” 

(Breathe from the diaphragm. This allows for long and passionate sentences.)

“Well. I’m surprised you haven’t noticed that we almost never have clean laundry on the loveseat anymore. I don’t put it there anymore. Nope. I fold it straight out of the dryer and put it away immediately.”

I was surprised they hadn’t noticed and they were surprised to hear of this thing they hadn’t noticed.

Whatever.

 

I extended the e-book sale through today, January 6th!

--Nony

Rhyme AND Reason – Laundry Day

Is “without rhyme or reason” a Texas saying or an everywhere saying?

Anyway.

I would like to announce to the world that EVEN THOUGH I traveled an hour to a speaking engagement yesterday, shopped for uniform pants for the boy who woke up on our first cold morning having outgrown all warm clothing, and didn’t even have time to write a blog post . . . Laundry Day . . . . happened.

That’s right.

It’s Tuesday morning, and there is one measly load of white towels waiting to go into the washing machine.

Socks? Undies?

Uniform shirts and shorts and skirts?

They’re clean and in drawers or closets.

I’m not saying the clothes currently drying or waiting to dry are guaranteed to make it smoothly into their drawers (declaring what I’m “gonna” do rarely works well for me), but even if we lived out of the dryer and re-washed the jeans/dark-towels that are currently in the washing machine next Monday . . . no one would be naked for a whole ‘nother seven days of our existence.

I know.

I’m bragging unashamedly about things normal people take for granted. But it’s days like this when I see how important the concept of Laundry Day is for my brain.

There’s rhyme. Rhythm. A flow to things. I wash, fold, and put away clothes on Monday. All of them.

We wear clothes every single day (really) and by the next Monday I need to wash them again.

There’s reason. We like clean clothes. (Actually, my kids don’t care, but I pretend they will someday.) If I can get it all done on Monday(ish), I get to completely ignore my Laundry Room for the next six (or five) days.

I know. I’m blathering. And I didn’t even write a post yesterday so it’s kind of horrible to open the week like this.

But it’s true. I know for a fact that a week like this one (speaking on Monday, MIL-sitting on Wednesday, school fundraiser volunteering on Friday) would have once had us digging through the Donate Box for highwater pants that might button if we rigged them with a rubber band.

Instead, I begrudgingly matched socks and put school shirts on hangers in between school pick-up and dinner and Duck Dynasty.

It wasn’t fun, but it was Monday. And now, on Tuesday . . . I’m so glad.

 

 

 

--Nony

Accountability That Actually Counts

Accountability that Actually Counts at ASlobComesClean.com

People like to talk about accountability.

There are accountability groups, accountability systems, accountability partners and such.

I set up this blog as a way to stay focused and hold myself accountable. In so many ways, that has worked.  But truthfully, it’s not the best kind of accountability.

Part of what I’ve committed to do here is to be truthful. To bring the ideals into reality and be honest about how things really work.

Accountability groups are great, except that you can stop attending them. Accountability partners are helpful, except that you can stop talking to them.

This blog as an accountability system is great, except that I can stop posting any time I choose.

Even if I received emails or phone calls or Facebook messages from people who cared and wanted to hold me accountable, I could ignore all those things.

I could delete my email account or change my phone number and never get bugged again.

Real accountability happens with the people who are directly affected by what I do and don’t do. The people who live with the habits and routines and systems I’ve developed.

Last night, I was tired.

I decided I was going to wait to start Laundry Day on Monday morning. Technically, that wasn’t a total cop out.

Monday is Laundry Day.

But I know that the best way for Laundry Day to happen, from beginning to end before Monday is over, is to start on Sunday night.

Seriously, it’s a game changer.

If the whole family gathers and sorts laundry on Sunday night and I start ONE little ol’ load before I go to bed, I’m pretty much ensuring success.

I know this, but I just didn’t feel like it. 

I was tired. The kids were tired.

We’d had a VERY busy weekend that included abnormally early mornings on both Saturday and Sunday. I was determined the kids would be in bed early.

I HAD emptied the dishwasher and reloaded it, catching up from getting off my dishwasher rhythm over the weekend.  That’s noble, right? Isn’t that enough?

I even knew Monday morning would stink if I waited. I’d be stuck gathering and sorting laundry by myself, and it would take five times longer than if the five of us did it together.

But I had decided I didn’t care.

Then Hubby said, “Don’t you need the kids to sort laundry before they go to bed?”

And it took less energy to say yes than to explain how I had purposely decided to forget to have them do it.

And I realized that is what real accountability is.

It is people who know you, who see you doing what you’re supposed to do for long enough that they notice when you’re not doing it.

Not just straying from what you said you were going to do, but straying from what they expect you to do because you always do it.

Accountability doesn’t come from the planning of routines, it comes from the observation of routines.

It comes from the people who count on those routines.

From the ones who wake up in the morning expecting to find clean undies and clean shirts and clean socks.

And even though I groaned inwardly last night when bedtime was delayed by a whole less-than-ten-minutes . . . I’m incredibly thankful for that accountability this morning.

Because it’s not even lunch time yet and I only have two loads left.

 

 

--Nony
--Nony

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