Buried

I've finally emerged from the piles of laundry that threatened to overtake my apartment. The fact that my apartment is nearly 900 square feet and there was some article of clothing etc., on nearly every square foot means I spent most of my time jumping from place to place and wondering when on earth was I ever going to dig myself out. The laundry piles, which include bedding and towels from my family's visit last weekend, were literally everywhere and spilling out into the kitchen at one point (laundry room is off the kitchen; I'd have preferred it off the bathroom, but whatever).

In addition to the dirty laundry awaiting its turn in the washer/dryer, I also had clean clothes lying flat to dry. I'm pretty sure, given the sheer number of piles -- clean and dirty -- some stuff got done twice. Here's the moral of the story: do not wait until the very last minute to do laundry because then you end up wearing white socks with black pants to work and you will spend the entire day hoping no one will notice. Also, you will spend the entire evening hopscotching, because laundry does not do itself or put itself away.