Motivation... or rather, the lack of...

     Wednesday. (Yes, I just mentally said that 'wed-nes-day.')
     Oh Wednesday...

     I want to be completely honest on this blog about my relationship with laundry. I know that I'm not alone in my struggles with it. I know that I'm not the only woman who struggles with clutter. It's just very hard to type about the struggle I have with it - and I have yet to overcome my fear of showing the world a picture of that relationship. I really, really, really want people to think of me as organized. I really, really, really want people to think of me as a fabulous, grown up, and organized housekeeper. (There are a few people that I'm desperately praying don't read this blog because I know what they'd be thinking.) But THOSE people are exactly the people who motivate me to fight the battles and try to better myself. Those people either don't have a clue, don't have a house of their own; they're faking it, or maybe they are perfect (and probably crazy) housekeepers and are just shamelessly mean.

     Let's face it. I've learned how women work. (I've always been surrounded by them.) Your house is an extension of who you are... Any time there is an opportunity to show off your house, you must show it in it's very best light. There is a dear woman in my life that they say used to super clean for three days before company came (almost killed herself with bleach one time...) and when company arrived, everything was perfect and she then used the line that EVERY woman uses after she busts her butt cleaning her dear little home. "Come on in! Now, please don't look at this messy house... I'm so sorry it's a mess... it's a wreck, I just haven't had time to get around to cleaning it."

     Or some variation of that...

     There is a fantastically large chance that you (If you're a woman, generally) have said some form of that line too. Especially, if your house is spotless. It sure makes the other women guests think you're an amazing housekeeper; they're green with envy... usually picturing the disasters they call home. Shamed... and it makes you secretly happy.

     Most often, the situation is a "quicky-clean" this means throwing haphazardly everything (aka junk - everyone has it...) into spare rooms and locking the doors. Hiding clothes in the dryer, behind the shower curtain (of the bathroom the guests wont use - unless you have a great shower curtain, know the visitor is male - or has a strong, large bladder.) IF said company decides to try to snoop around, you throw yourself in front of the forbidden areas as if you're protecting the president from a bullet... they're not getting through to those spots unless they kill you first.

     Very occasionally, you will happen upon a woman whose home is a complete wreck, and in which case the above lines are said with much more shame... generally with the speaker looking around at the mess being spoke of, eyes are averted, head down, hurrying through conversation; trying to rush the guests back out of the door. (Depending on the woman, there may be some sort of underlying threat in her voice or her words which really says: "If you tell ANYONE about this... I will hunt you down and you WILL regret ever speaking those words, you gossiping hussy.")




     Let's put it this way... even though I have organized all of my closets... you should see what my laundry room floor and living room love seat look like... well, you can't really see what they look like.

     They're buried.

     Under a lot of clothes.