When your dreams tell you how you really feel...

I had an amazing dream a few nights ago, a vivid dream, one of those wonderfully delightful dreams that leaves a sweet lingering sensation of happiness long after you wake up. In it, I loaded up all of my baskets of laundry, dropped them off in the middle of the desert, and then drove away without looking back.

No joke. 

That tells you a little bit about how my subconscious feels about laundry.

Should I be embarrassed about the pictures I'm about to show you of my dirty laundry? Probably. But I felt I needed to have the evidence to back up what I’m about to tell you. 

I haven’t been “caught up” on laundry since before I got pregnant with Josephine (that’s almost two years, guys!) And even before that, it was rare. I’m not sure I’ve ever been able to say: “I don’t have enough dirty clothes for a full load of laundry.” (If you’ve said that before, I would really love to know what it feels like. Feel free to leave a message for me with a description of the sensation. I'll live vicariously through you!)

I probably know what you're thinking. It’s something along the lines of: What are they wearing while everything is dirty? Is it starting to smell in her house? How do they even have so much laundry? Surely they don’t need all of that. 

To answer all of those hypothetical questions you are probably asking: We are wearing dirty clothes, yes it does smell, there are seven people dirtying clothes in this house, that's how. And I’m sure you're right, we don’t need all of that. Maybe someday when I find the time to wash all of it, I’ll find the time to go through it to get rid of what we don’t need.

Guess what though! I’m not just sinking in dirty laundry. I also have two baskets (in another location- lest you think I "padded" the picture of dirty laundry ;) ) of clean laundry waiting to be folded, as well as a load of towels in the dryer and a load of blankets in the washer (those have been there for about three days now).  That's part of the reason I can’t talk myself into washing the laundry, I just can’t seem to get myself to fold it, no matter how many times I scold myself or bribe myself with chocolate and chick-flicks. I'm wise to my games. 

I hate doing laundry. I hate it SO much. I legitimately looked into a laundry service the other day. The thought of paying someone to do it all for me is so so so enticing. 

But holy moly! Three dollars a pound! That’s how much it was going to cost to have someone pick up my laundry, wash it, fold it, and bring it back to me. I’m pretty sure I could just buy a new wardrobe for my entire family for what it would cost me to pay someone to do all of my laundry. Still, if I had the financial recourses to do it, I would. I wouldn’t even look back. Not even a second thought. That's the truth.

I told Jesse about it... “Totally worth it.” he said. 

Then we were both sad. 

I'm sure there will be a day when I'll be caught up on my laundry, (At least, I have to assume there will be a day when I'll be caught up...) but for now, I’m just going to try and take a deep breath, put a load in the washer, leave it there for four days, wash it again, switch it to the dryer, leave it there for two days, throw it into a laundry basket, and then pick from it until everything is dirty again.

Alas. another load that I forgot was down the hallway. 

Or, I'll tell my kids to fish something out of the dirty clothes pile, and ya’ll can judge. #lethewhoiswithoutsin 

*Update* I washed TWO of the seventeen loads of laundry I had! I rewarded myself by taking three days off from laundry duty. Now we're back to where we started.

This. Is. Why.