My bedroom looks like a tornado hit it. My side specifically. There is just clothing hurled in all different directions – and yes, as much as I’d like to believe that it’s caused my mine and Matt’s passion for each other, wherein we hurl our clothes across the room before attacking, it’s not. It’s getting home for work:
Me: I have stuff to do! (do the stuff)
Me: Oh look something cool is on the internet. (watch videos)
Me: What happened? (I wake up on the couch)
Me: I’m sleepy! (wander into bedroom, throw clothes on ground and get into bed)
OR I have this illogical thought:
Me: That doesn’t need to be washed, so I’ll keep it out so I can wear it again, but I won’t fold it and put it in the drawer because it’ll contaminate my other clothes – I’ll let it air out a little. OH! And these delicates and dress should probably be hung up so I’ll keep them out and do it tomorrow. Ugh! I don’t want to wear this nice dress. I’ll pick four dresses and put them on the bed and then NEVER PUT THEM AWAY.
So, I have decided that for the next two weeks, I am declaring war on my clothes. I will try to focus on how to treat my clothes as soon as I enter the house.
(wistful music) Ohhhhhh how I envy people who just think – like a thought out of no where – that they hang up their coats when they come in the door, as opposed to tossing it on a chair with the other billion coats. Ohhhhhh, how I yearn to be like them.
(reality) But it’s just me and Matt and our terrible messy habit. But we made a little progress last night. I had taken off my PJs in bed…’cause it was getting hot…(what whaaaat?!) and sweet Matthew folded them up nicely – turned them right side out and placed them on the floor. PROGRESS!