Love'in Laundry

I have a ridiculously large mountain of laundry that I have strategically placed in my main hallway. I am admittedly embarrassed by this filth. My intentions were worthy. The way I figure it is I will walk by the ever growing pile of dirty clothes about 80 times tonight and that alone will be enough motivation to start the 20 or so plus cycles that will leave us with empty laundry baskets for at least 10 minutes.

But I am an inherent procrastinator (a god-given gene from my father) so I decided to blog instead. However, because procrastination runs thick through my soul and leaves me deferring every last detail until the very last minute, despite my desperate claims to alter this dawdling behavior, I found myself daydreaming about the impending weekend instead.

My thoughts drifted into my fantasy land. I wish a babysitter could visit us tomorrow, to relinquish us from the daily demands of two determined (determined to drive us crazy, that is) children, allowing us to actually escape into this fantasy land where delectable food will delight our palates, fine wine will quench our thirst and alter our moods making us believe we actually live in this fantasy land all the time, conversations will drift into taking vacations abroad, and we will reminisce on all the joy our children bring us – consciously focusing on only the positive side of parenting to ensure we remain firmly suited within our fantasy land.

All this daydreaming was brusquely interrupted by the nagging mountain of laundry in my hall. The reality of slipping into this fantasy land with Paul tomorrow night requires me to wash, dry, fold and put away every last basket of laundry prior to the babysitter’s arrival to avoid being dubbed as a lousy housekeeper.

(Perhaps I have more immediate concerns to address than procrastinating – should I first focus on my obsession with how I am perceived by others?)

Maybe I could find a large closet to stuff all this dirty laundry into, to where it could wait, unseen, until we are forced to wear dirty underwear – which is typically my cue to stop delaying the inevitable.

Laundry is my evil nemesis. Someday when I am relinquished from inordinate daycare costs I think I will outsource this task. Paul believes we have a laundry fairy. I am going to become a believer too.

Just on a side note this post was going to be less about laundry and contain more pertinent, memorable events that occur in the Willoughby household but Paityn donned her “I love you Mommy” charm and sent me to the store in search of ice cream.

I obviously have more personal issues to add to my list of faults right along side procrastination and perception: Paityn’s ability to manipulate me into a midnight ice cream trip. And I didn’t just buy ice cream. I bought 5 PowerAde’s, a Sprite, Jelly Belly’s and a Snickers bar.

I am a sucker… who hates laundry… and worries too much about keeping my house clean for guests…

But tomorrow night these worries will all become distant memories of my former life as a peasant women when I assume the role of Queen in my fantasy land, dining at lavish restaurants, ordering only the finest wine, hiring a capable caretaker to oversee my princess and princes’ well being, all while I make future plans to perfect my kingdom.