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Dancing with an IPOD

We never seem to run out of laundry to wash/dry/fold. Ever.

And we even have a very diplomatic process in our house (precipitated some years back by the Son sandbagging me one Sunday afternoon with piles of unwashed clothes long after the entire weekend batch had been nicely folded and put away) -- everyone does their own.

Oh, I pick up the slack and wash all the sheets and towels, but everyone is responsible for doing their own wearables.

The day this process started began an era of laundry bliss.

Everyone has total control of their wardrobe. If they run out of socks or undies or clean jeans, it's their own fault. If their closets are pristine, hung with fresh-smelling, wrinkle free clothes, they can take credit.

For the most part, this system continues to work well. For the most part, but most systems occasionally falter, then regain equilibrium.

See, sometimes I'm the one who gets behind. Never in the washing/drying part. Just in the folding part.

I'm really not worried too much about the why. I know that. Time constraints. Serious laundry apathy. A great book to read which always trumps folding sheets (and has ANYONE ever mastered the bottom sheet thing? Seriously, I do the best I can wad fold, then quickly fold the top sheet and place it on top of the slightly mangled bottom sheet blob, attempting to conceal yet another pathetic attempt to subdue the bottom sheet). A workout. A good nap. Baking cookies. Doing my toes. Blogging. Surfing. Plucking my eyebrows. Crocheting. Watching a movie.

The solution of late? Tunes. IPOD'd into my brain at a fairly high volume.

I shut the hall door so nobody in the living room catches me dancing and swaying, and yes, singing, sometimes loudly, while I attack the laundry pile.

And guess what?

Lately I've been in better control of the pile AND I always end with a smile on my face.

Except that one time when I was salsa-ing with myself and nearly broke my big toe on the hope chest.

But for the most part, music bodes well for folding.

Be proud of me. It's the little things.
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