I like the idea of routines and schedules but I also feel it’s almost pointless sometimes to get too attached to them. Last week I decided to throw a little folding party this weekend to motivate myself to fold all our clean laundry at once. I planned to binge watch some Dr Who and caffeinate myself to power through the task. But you know what they say about the best laid plans…
Saturday is usually the day Bob does laundry, but his sister and niece came to town, which was something we’d looked forward to. He waited until they left Sunday to do the wash, which made sense.
I still might have gotten everything folded yesterday, but Emma had a birthday party in the afternoon. I know most of her friends and their parents, so I drop her off at parties. But this was a pool party and we have differing opinions on the benefits of one summer of swim camp, so I stayed. On Friday night she and I were supposed to see a production of Shrek, but it was postponed to last night because of snow. So after the party, I had ninety minutes to get her home, fed, and out the door again. I’d planned to heat up a precooked turkey and make a couple sides but realized we didn’t even have time for that. So we went through the dreaded drive-through.
And that was my weekend. It’s no one’s fault and all these diversions were pleasant so I feel guilty complaining. But I wonder if I’m going about this wrong. I don’t know right now.
We have three half days this week because of parent-teacher conferences. On the upside, I don’t have to make lunches which saves me a little time in the morning. But I need to reconfigure my work schedule around bus pickups. I usually give myself Fridays off because I volunteer in the school library but I decided to take tomorrow off because I am going to fold laundry.
I have one other priority for tomorrow: I’m going to drop off those books that have been sitting in the back of my car now for weeks. And the bags keep tipping over, making a mess. Even though I’m in the car every day, I stay in a small radius around my house and the school and the supermarket and a couple other places, but I have not yet made it to the library where I can leave the books. It’s about twenty minutes away and I otherwise have no reason to go in that direction.
Even though the car’s not as clean as I want it, it’s actually in somewhat better shape than it was. A few weeks ago I was driving Emma and another girl home from our Brownie meeting. As they climbed into the backseat, the other girl must have caught a glimpse of the mess. “My mom’s a hoarder,” Emma said by way of explanation.
I felt embarrassed, but I decided to let it go. I’m not a hoarder. I’m just messy and I’m working on it.
I also cleaned out my handbag. My bags are always a mess. In fact, they embarrass me more than the car. Yesterday I dumped out my bag.
One of those inhalers was empty and has been empty for months. I seldom bother with lipstick these days, so I don’t know why I had six of them. Even though I had a small cosmetic bag in my purse, I don’t usually bother to put stuff back. There was a bit of kid related junk too, which I tossed.
Here’s the after.
So, I had one small, much-needed victory for today.