God Doesn't Want Me To Have Clean Clothes

I decided, because my list was too long, that I would do New Month resolutions instead of New Year's resolution. I would focus on small, positive steps, 3 per month (one pertaining to me and my personal time, one pertaining to the house and chores and one pertaining to parenting issues) and tackle them one at a time. This would be a doable strategy, I thought; and filled with hope and ambition, I began January 1.

The personal time issue for January was make-up. I'm not a person who feels naked without it or anything and I don't guess I ever will be. I do know, however, that a little somethin-somethin under my eyes goes a long way toward making me look not corpsey. Also, I have the complexion of a vampire, so I try to deal with that. I had gotten to the point where I couldn't remember the last time I'd even opened my make-up bag. It's not that I want to be made-up, it's just that I want to look like I care. I told one person that I used to look cool and earthy and non-conformist walking around with no makeup and know I look like an overworked soccer mom who may or may not have been nibbled on recently by the walking dead. So, make-up. I've fairly succeeded. I'm averaging about four days a week, which is technically more than half - so there.

The parenting issue for January was potty training Maren. I've been holding her back, not because of any of the normal reasons, but because I'm freakin' lazy. I don't want to have to ask a person every fifteen minutes if they need to potty and I hate all the mopping that goes hand in hand with potty training, but I've been doing it and now here we are in February and she's mostly trained. We've got a little bit to go, but she's wearing panties except for sleeping time and only having an accident or two a day. So, that's good.

On the household front, however, I have been thwarted. I'd like to say I've failed, but I can't really take on the full guilt and responsibility of this debacle. I vowed to get caught up on laundry during the month of January. I seriously still have stuff down there from this summer to be washed and don't even get me started on the massive mountain of blankets and pillows down there awaiting attention. Really. It's bad. It's bad-bad. So, I set out with high hopes and a stock of All and generic fabric softener. And here's what happened:

• My washer which kind of came and went in terms of working, just went. I mean, it still washes the clothes, but every load has to be spun out at least twice and sometimes I give up and wring them out piece by piece by hand. I don't heat my basement above don't-freeze-the-pipes warm, so you can imagine how much fun this has been.
• My water heater went out. Which shouldn't contribute because I wash most of my clothes in cold water, reserving hot for The Husband's shirts he wears to his oil-change place of employment and towels. I am sorry, but you will never convince me that it's okay to wash towels in cold water. I don't even understand why. But even so, the stress of getting a new water heater and then the night we went without water completely had a little impact. Very little, but whatever. 
• Not enough time. I have discovered that our family generates approximately ten loads of laundry per week. Since I have a child who refuses to wear the same pajamas two nights in a row and the world's biggest towels, it adds up quick. Add in potty training and the afore mentioned oil-change employment and we are buried under a growing mound of dirty clothes. To keep up I have to do ten loads, to get caught up I was attempting to do 20 loads per week (2 loads a day each week day and 5 loads a day each weekend day). I have never once succeeded at my 20 load goal. Partially because of the extra time I spend standing at the washer while it spin-spin-spins. But partially because I have this whole other life. Where I do things other than wash clothes.
• Last night the dryer broke. I know, it's not even January anymore, but I'm still trying to get in there and get it done. Just start February late or something. But no, the dryer won't dry. And I am officially screwed.

I actually had a hyperventilating nervous breakdown about this situation last night. I cried and screamed and gnashed my teeth. And I still have no solution. I dried one load of clothes five times last night and it was still damp when I brought it upstairs. I have located a retractable clothes line for the low-low price of $6 and I may have to resort to that. But in the meantime, I have decided to work away at catching up laundry, lecture my kids about wearing things until they are actually dirty and not stressing it too much.

Because, obviously, someone up there wants me to wear dirty clothes. I'm not sure why, but I am sure that it's no mistake. It can't be. So the next time you see me with a little salsa on my shirt just smile and ignore it, because that's what I'll be doing.