Dirty Little Secret

I did the most unbelievable thing the other day. I washed, dried, and folded at least 10 loads of laundry. Indeed this is noteworthy. Historical. Monumental. All of the above. It is very likely this act of domestication may never happen again...ever (as I write this post, the dryer is magically humming the words, "please stop using me").

Why so much laundry? Well, the long version of the story stems from my childhood. Since there is not enough time nor patience for this recollection, I'll spare you the details and release the short version.

I like shopping. My mom and I would visit the mall every Saturday. I wasn't one of those children that hated the mall. In fact, I loved it so much I continued the tradition with Kaden. Let's just say he didn't take to it too well. Unless there is a huge rack filled with toys, gadgets, or chicken nuggets, he is not interested. it didn't help that I would hold clothes up to him and use the word 'cute' at least 5 times in one session. We'll assume Kaden chooses Legos over Levi's any day.

My love for shopping, finding deals, and hoarding the latest trends is the culprit behind the mounds of laundry at home. I have so many options (like the same shirt in 3 different colors), I rarely need to wash clothes in order to have an outfit to put on. Bragging? Hardly. Crazy? Absolutely. However, this is my reality. The boys have a completely different situation.

For them, it's simple- boxers, t-shirt, socks, top, and bottom. That is all they need to complete their wardrobe. No fru-fru dress, no skinny jeans, no lace bra with the magic cleavage enhancer, just the bare necessities. While I shuffle through hanger after hanger in the closet (sometimes the floor houses a few garments), I recite the standardized statement echoed by several women across the world, "I don't have a thing to wear."

It's almost as if the little, flirty dress that I recently purchased from
the-tag-says-large-but-it-fits-like-an-extra-small store wants to jump off the hanger and slap me silly. The same goes for the way-too-tall-to-wear-in-public-but-so-darn-cute shoes still in the box. Why do women always claim they have nothing to wear, but always have enough options to grace the pages of Vogue magazine? Maybe the phrase should be changed to, "I don't have a thing, that I like at the moment, to wear." At least this would provide some form of comprehension for the male species.

Doing the laundry for me has become therapeutic and has taught me a few lessons. I have discovered that:

1. Washing clothes regularly will eliminate time spent looking for a particular item. If its washed, folded, and put it the proper location, you will find it when you need it. Duh!

2. Clothes have feelings too. Imagine being worn, perspired on, or having BBQ sauce smeared on you. You would want to be cleaned immediately, right? Treat your clothes like you would treat any valuable possession. Attend to them regularly.

3. There's a reason why retail stores perform inventory. I should do the same. Instead of purchasing yet another white, button-up shirt I should wash the 20 I already own.

Now is not the time to waste. There is never really the perfect time to waste, but we all should be more mindful of our consumption in this economic downfall. Not only has washing my laundry taught me a few valuable lessons, I have also made a few extra dollars.

I take my unwanted clothing and shoes to a consignment shop. They do all the work. After they 'yea' or 'nay' each item, a price is created. I receive 40% of each sale. This money comes in handy when I need gas. I normally stop by twice a month to see what has sold. A few times I succumb to retail pressure and use the money I earned to buy another item. I cannot completely break the cycle. The first step is admitting that I have a problem. I have.

I am never afraid to show my vulnerability. I know there is at least one person who will read this post and understand what I am talking about. I bet you can hardly see your keyboard because you have a half-folded stack of towels waiting to be put away in the closet. Or better yet, you were suppose to wash your husband's work clothes that he will obviously need for tomorrow, but you will make-up some excuse as to why they did not make it in the wash.

You've read this post almost in it's entirety. I cannot offer you any advice other than this: WEAR. WASH. DRY. FOLD. PUT AWAY. This seems to date back to the early-days. Word on the street, well at least in the laundry aisle of the grocery store, this actually works. I'll have to give it a try!

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