There’s a pile of clean laundry on my bedroom floor. Weeks ago, my husband neatly folded each piece and stacked it next to the bed. It was his attempt at inspiring me to hang them up.
Bless his sweet little heart.
There’s something you should know about my husband: he’s a neat freak. And I’m… well, I’m not. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not a slob, and I take pride in our home.
It just looks like someone actually lives there.
If you asked my dear husband which of my quirks he detests the most (and trust me, folks, there are plenty to choose from), it would be this clothing conundrum. Articles tend to pile up on a chair, somewhere near the hamper, or—worst of all—on the floor, inches from their home.
I have a closet. I have more than enough hangers. I have legs and arms to physically hang my clothes. And I’m blessed to have enough clothing that I need to spend a few minutes putting them away.
I get that.
But, I also have a full-time job. I have more than enough side projects. I have a son and dogs and a house. And I’m blessed with having so many friends and family that my time is spent on them.
I hope people get that, too.
Because sometimes, that pile of clothes gets put off for something less productive. Most recently:
- To work on one of my part-time projects
- To go grocery shopping
- To hit important work deadlines
- To spend time alone with Dateline
- To cuddle with my son (using, I should mention, the laundry pile as a pillow)
Other times, that pile of clothes gets put off for something more productive. Like a closet organization project. See, I can commit to something (when pearls are involved).
The thing is: we all have that pile of clean clothes in our bedrooms.
I don’t mean literally (although, I sincerely hope I’m not alone). We all have something nagging that sits in the back of our minds, bringing us down. We know we should just take care of it, but oh my goodness, it feels so good to put it off another day. Maybe it’s bills. Or, a telephone call. Or, finding time to go to the post office.
I know those things can bring you down. But, folks, life is short.
Still, my husband’s wishes are important too. I have to remember that seeing my clothes on the floor makes him as uncomfortable as hearing someone chew potato chips makes me. The incredible amount of anxiety I feel when he talks about space and life and molecules and science… that’s equal to his anxiety when I ignore those clean clothes.
I’m reminded that this—like everything in marriage—just takes balance.
So, I will put my clothes away. I already know it won’t take long, and I’ll feel so much better when it’s done.
But I gotta tell ya, folks—some days it just feels nice to play in the laundry pile.