Couple loads of laundry done

I like doing laundry, I don't even mind folding it, but for some reason I hate putting it away. I'm not the only one either. Why is that? What is the deal with putting stuff away? I am not a tidy person, and anyone who has ever been to my house knows that, but still, I wash, I clean, and then leave stuff out. I have skirts and shirts hanging from hangers from doorknobs when they just as easily could be hanging from the closet rack. I have folded piles of clothes on top of my dresser and chair and in my laundry basket, when they could be in my bureau drawers.

I have a pile of shoes on my bathroom floor. It would take me all of three minutes to put them all away neatly, but I don't. I think about it, but I don't do it.

The only way my house gets straightened up is to have guests over. Then, I clean furiously, run out of time, and then start jamming things willy nilly into boxes, which I don't like to do.

See, if you do look into my cupboards, or drawers or closets, you'll see that I'm not a "stuffer" I don't like just stuffing things away (I'll do it, if I have to, but I don't like it). Everything is organized and neat. I have short sleeve shirts in one place, pajamas and nightgowns somewhere else, tank tops and shorts here, long sleeves and turtlenecks there. My mess is right out there for everyone to see.

I wonder if there's some metaphor there. You know, how we keep our home is really a reflection of who we are?

I don't like to get rid of things. Something reminds me of that summer we went water skiing at the lake, or I was reading this book when I met that new friend. Or, I might use this some day. I'm not a knick knacky person though. Just catches dust as far as I'm concerned.

Let's go back to the metaphor. I'm not a secretive person, and I usually don't hide things (like my mess) away. I like to think I have my head on straight, and know myself pretty well, and really, if you look closely, I am pretty well organized on a basic level when it comes to my home.

My ex-roommate had a girlfriend (now his wife) whom I didn't like, for a number of reasons. One was that I thought she was deceitful. I never knew when she was telling the truth. She was all about appearances. Her idea of cleaning was to shove dirty dishes into the cupboards with the clean ones, to take the towels in my bathroom (that she had used to remove her make-up) and throw them on the garage floor near the washer, and to spray lime-scented air spray instead of actually taking out the garbage.

The most telling moment with her was when she grabbed the dish towel, you know the one used to dry clean dishes? and used it to wipe the green goo that was coming out of her four-year-old daughter's nose. Bad enough, yet with my own eyes I saw her put the towel back on the handle of the oven where we kept it.

Somehow, she met a man (my roommate), a smart man (usually), with a kind heart and a reliable work ethic, yet here I am, single as ever, with no prospects, possibilities or chances at all in the present.

How fair is that?

Metaphors. I could go on and on.

Maybe appearances are more important than I've given them credit for.

Because you know dahling,

"It's not how you feel, it's how you look. No one really cares how you feel. But you looook Mah-ve-lous!"