I’m sure I must have mentioned laundry previously.  With five kids it is ubiquitous here.  And it’s currently about to put me over the edge.
Our old house had a small laundry room, and I had a nice system for pre-sorting dirty clothes into loads, and sorting clean ones by owner as they left the dryer.  Everyone had his own hamper, and when yours was full, you put your clothes away, then brought the hamper back.  In the case of the little kids, I would let their clothes pile up until they had nothing clean left, thereby preventing them from wearing the same things again and again.
But in this house, the laundry facilities are in the garage.  And the garage is stuffed full of things that are not cars.  And I have not yet found the time (yes, I know we have lived here nine months, and should be all unpacked and organized by now, but this is reality, not a fairy tale) to figure out a new organizational plan for the laundry.
So . . . it piles up.  No one can find their clothes, even though I’ve washed whatever they gave me.  Clothes fall off the pile balanced precariously on top of the baskets and on to the kitchen floor, where they get walked on and have to be re-washed.  When Emily was home, without being asked she took over the responsibility for folding and sorting the clothes.  She had piles all over the living room (oh, how I miss my old living room, which was out of the line of household traffic and thus remained clean and company-ready at all times, unlike this one, which is where you walk into the house and is thus the depository for everyone’s junk) but at least people could find their clothes.
But she’s gone back to college.  I’m getting ready to take advantage of her empty room by taking all the clothes up there until I have the energy to deal with them (October, maybe?).


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