Generally speaking, when I do laundry I like to fold it right out of the dryer. I mean like, as soon as its done I open the dryer door and stand right there and fold everything into little piles on the washer to be put straight away. It also gets me out of a whole lot of ironing.
Except whites. I loathe folding whites.
Sometimes however, whether I just don't feel like it, or I'm in a hurry, or something else requires my immediate attention, I confess, I will just throw everything into a pile in the hallway so I can switch the clothes over from the washer.
And sometimes its sits there for a while.
Yesterday... well, yesterday I had a lot of laundry to do. Folding just wasn't in my agenda so after about five or six full loads, my hallway didn't look much like a hallway.
You will be relieved to know that I did indeed fold all this last night before bed. Well... almost all of it. The whites are in a basket sitting on my bed, impatiently waiting to be folded.
I'm secretly hoping that a hundred people say that they too have done something like this so that my humiliation isn't in vain. But I'd settle for just one.
Of course, I would never admit that out loud let alone in writing!
I am, however, feeling deeply grateful for my washer and dryer. There was many a day when I had to use up six washers at the laundry mat back when we were in a two bedroom apartment at college with three kids.
I would load up the wagon and the stroller. Sometimes my dirty laundry would topple over on the way down, sometimes my clean laundry would topple over on the way back up, and sometimes (though rare) a fellow apartment dweller would take extreme pity on me and would help me balance my many baskets and garbage bags down the hill.
Those people have a place prepared for them in heaven.