Saturday, November 24, 2007


Over the last few weeks (months?) I've been really lax about keeping up with housework. The most egregious example of this is the 2-foot-high mound of clean clothes I sleep with each night. Somehow it's easier to motivate to finally load all the dishes or to clean the tub, toilet and sink than it is to tackle the clothes.

It's been making me feel really bad. I tell myself I'm going to do it, and then I don't. And then I get really angry with myself, and there's a lot of internal grumbling and self-directed pissy-ness. Rinse. Repeat.

Today will be different (Jeeze. I'm already feeling pangs of anxiety about this!) Today I will encourage, cajole and peptalk myself until I've put away the clothes. There are plenty of other things to be freaking out about, too, but today will be the clothes. They're wrinkly but clean. I will hang them up.

And when I'm done, I'll go to Big Lots and buy myself some mascara, if they have it.

UPDATE: I lasted 15 minutes. The clothes are now 1/2 organized on the bed by where they will eventually go. I stopped because I could no longer tolerate the ever-amping up freakout it was causing. WTF?