I hate laundry. My husband hates laundry. Everyone I know hates laundry. People blog about hating laundry. It's un-American not to hate laundry.
Our laundry gets clean with no problem. We use the washer as our communal laundry basket. When it's full, we run it. The problem is the clean stuff. It multiplies, procreates, breeds... load after load, item after item, dryer sheet after wrinkled dryer sheet. I sorted, folded and put away laundry this morning and counted at least ten dryer sheets. Yuck. Suddenly this kind of overwhelming existence was no longer acceptable to me. No longer will clean laundry get the better of me and my family.
I went into Crazy Organizational Mode, loaded the kids into the car and headed to Wal-Mart. If you're ever at Wal-Mart when I am in CO Mode, watch out. I have the focus of a NASCAR driver. Muttering to myself things like "One for Natta's jammies" I bought nine lined baskets and a cloth triple bin. Still in CO Mode, I went home and attacked my laundry room. I moved all the cleaning supplies, wiped the shelves clean and set up my baskets. Assembling the bin did not take long and soon my system was in place.
Now it will be possible to successfully ignore ten SORTED loads of laundry rather than a huge ambiguous pile in the corner of my bedroom. Each basket is labeled with a family member's name and the item of clothing that is supposed to go in it, paving the way for confrontational drama with Hubby when he absentmindedly puts Mister's Nemo jammies in the bin labeled "Her Underwear". Our lives will never be the same.
Stay tuned. I plan to post pictures when I get around to taking some. Your life, too, will never be the same.