For those of you who know me well, you’ll know that I am, ahem, a little bit of a mess. I apologize to any college roommates who are reading this. Kind people chalk it up to my “creative nature,” but for most of my life I have been able to bear absurd amounts of clutter without really even noticing it. And when I lived with an equally messy roommate one year, disaster ensued. You literally could not see our floor, and quite often our beds, for the entire year. Looking back, even I find it hard to believe.
Thankfully, marriage has purged me of a lot of this lazy lifestyle, and I’m happy and proud to say that we keep 3 out of 4 rooms in our apartment spic-and-span a comfortable majority of the time. Keith helped me start out our life together with a “home” for just about every last thing that we own, so cleaning is really pretty easy. We can clean the whole apartment as a team, starting with the living room full of junk and the sink brimming with dishes, in about 25 minutes. My favorite part is Lysoling the counter tops. Ahhh, lemony, germ-free freshness.
But about that 4th room… The bedroom. Where my clothes live. I HATE folding and hanging up clothes. H-a-t-e i-t. So often, clean clothes remain in baskets for an undetermined amount of time, the piles growing and multiplying with every morning of trying on about 3 outfits before adorning something acceptable. And of course, attempt #’s 1 and 2 end up clean, in the piles (not good for clothing longevity!). At last count I had 4 of these pile-monsters in various corners of our bedroom. Poor Keith, he’s so good at putting up with me. And, SO great at helping me overcome my weaknesses!
Last night we went crazy ghost-buster style, head-to-head with these piles. We dumped out every last article of clothing that I own in the middle of the bedroom and dove in. The pile was about 5 feet wide and 3 feet tall. (And I’ve given HUGE bags to Goodwill about 5 times in the past 2 years. Ridiculous!) I really couldn’t have done it without Keith. When faced with the enormous monster I just kept groaning, “I don’t want to!” Seriously people, this was like some kind of therapeutic intervention.
But piece-by-piece the pile shrunk. I folded, armed with a new t-shirt technique (the one that everyone in the world uses for sure, I am just “special” when it comes to folding), and Keith hung the hang-up clothes. In the end every last bit of my wardrobe was folded or hung, and organized in a pragmatic fashion. I even woke up this morning and folded my last load as soon as it came out of the dryer! I may be well on my way to reformation.
Last night I sighed a deep sigh of relief and went to sleep in peaceful bliss. Keith said the room felt lonely without the piles (I think he’s afraid of squelching my “creative nature.”:) But no worries babe, sin piles is a good way to live—even leaving more room for creativity. A blank canvas if you will.
Next time you see me, you may notice that my threads are significantly less crumpled. :)
(not how I fold t-shirts...but one can have aspirations.)