Where Fine Washables Go to Die

See my nifty doo-lolly?  It’s a towel rack that is hung over a door.

 

Absolutely perfect to dry fine washables.  Hung in the absolutely perfect spot, on the inside of my laundry room door.  I’ve had this thing since college, and it’s held up so beautifully.

So why the hint of sarcasm in my words?

Because this is what it looked like up until about 20 minutes ago.

And it’s looked like that for . . . . well . . . . always.

It’s nifty.  It’s in a great spot.  It has a real purpose to serve, and it serves it.

So what’s the problem?

Me.

It’s that pesky thing some experts probably call “task completion.”  Anything that comes out of the washing machine that I don’t think should be put in the dryer, and isn’t so big that it needs its own wicker chair upon which to dry . . . goes here.

The “going here” isn’t the problem.  It’s the “staying here.”

The outer layer is made up of items that I wear fairly regularly.  Those things get pulled off when the desire to wear them again hits.  Then there’s the layer of rarely worn items.  Things like . . . pantyhose.  I do remember a time when I wore them daily, but in my current phase of life, I’m able to limit their use to less than 5 times a year.    And when you got 5 pairs for free with coupons a year ago, it’s easier for this slob to just pull out a new pair than to try to remember what I did with the pair that I wore two months ago.  But of course, in an effort to not be wasteful, I don’t throw them away.  I wash them, hang them on this handy-dandy rack, and forget that they exist.

And then there’s the lowest level.  Those are the things that get covered up and completely forgotten.  TWO years in a row, I’ve been irritated when the choir director said we needed to wear red tops for our Christmas program at church.  I mean, I just don’t have a red top!  The first year, I used it as an excuse to wear an awesome funky red faux-fur vest, and then last year I bought a new red top (about 15 minutes before I was supposed to be at the church).  Roll-my-own-eyes-at-myself-ironically, I’ve found a perfect red sweater that I’d forgotten I had, hanging on this rack the week after the program . . . . both years.   Grrr.

So, for today, it’s cleared.  Outgrown clothing has been put out for our upcoming garage sale.  Bathing suits are in the proper drawers, ready for swim season to begin again in a few weeks.  Pantyhose are in my drawer, and all of my delicate tops are hung in my closet.

I have no trick or solution for keeping this from happening again.  Unless it’s to make clearing the rack my first task on Laundry Day, before putting new things on there to die dry.