I got a cold. There is nothing like a night out drinking and an impending period to make me sick. I felt pretty good yesterday while at work, but I woke up this morning with one stuffed nostril and a scratchy throat again. How is it that on a work day, I wake up with barely a sniffle and my throat clear? I should be thankful, I know, but it sucks that my days off are plagued with illness while I feel just fine at work.

Work was a boring drag yesterday too. What was such a packed day that I called a couple people last week to reschedule for a different day turned out to be a day of no-shows and cancellations. I sat on my ass, reading a magazine for damn near three hours. I could have easily been sick and not had a problem. I could have practically been puking and "worked" yesterday. We left by five even. Of course our last patient didn't cancel, or we could have been out of there at two.

Anyway, I feel worse again today, and it's cramping my plans. Of course, just about anything at all can cramp my plans, so being sick is just another excuses in the long chain, like not having washed my hair, too many clouds, having a sick kid at home, not liking the way the dog looked at me. You know, important stuff like that. I really did hope to get lots and lots done today though, so not feeling up to snuff has put a crimp in my day, but I'm going to get to work anyway. I really have no choice.

You see, the laundry is mounting. Soon, I won't even be able to enter the laundry room without a backhoe. All that talk I did in just about every entry I've written since January about getting caught up with laundry? It was all a lot of jibba jabba. I didn't do it. I did enough to get us by for a couple days and then did another load or two. Meanwhile, there's bedding, towels, and every other stitch of clothing we own building up to appalling proportions.

Talking about this is making me feel guilty for not having the washer and dryer running at this very moment. Hold on a minute while I change that.

OK, both appliances are now running, and I feel just a smidge better about myself. But it doesn't change the fact that I have let this get to such a sorry state. Don't believe me? There is a pile of towels, bedding, and delicate items by the washer that comes up to my chest. The washer isn't even that high, people! That doesn't even include all the other stuff scattered about the floor and separated into the six sorting bins (those almost come up to my hip).

Why do I avoid laundry so much? It's not like it's hard. The hardest part of it is trudging up and down the basement stairs, which really isn't all that fun.

The basement is rather depressing too, especially after John got down there and set up his music studio, which meant rearranging everything and taking over the garage for two weeks. I can't even get back to my little corner of the basement. No really. I can't. There is a pile of boxes and stuff higher than my head blocking the way. He didn't stack it up in my corner, so I couldn't accuse him of ruining all my hard work. He just blocked my way into all my hard work. Granted, he wants to clean down there as much as I do. And we had a garbage pile this week that literally had people stopping in their cars (and old truck that needed a new muffler) to dig stuff out at 11:00 at night, so we're getting rid of lots of stuff, but it doesn't change the fact that it is impossible to get to the main shut-off valve for our water, and the laundry room is quickly becoming impassable. But does the basement really have that much affect on how I do laundry? Apparently, because I'm sure not doing it.

A lot of it has to do with that damn job of mine too. I was getting pretty good at getting laundry out once a week before that job came along. Now, the job has done amazing things in other areas of my life, and I do find myself to be generally happier than I used to be. But that might be likely to change if my house continues to descend into this state of constant disarray. It is all I ever wanted when I called myself "just a housewife," and I still want it as a part-time housewife. It's just there isn't as much time to mentally flog myself to do things as there once was.

It's not just the job taking my time either. It's all that damn exercise I started doing. Well, was doing. I haven't been doing anything since Sunday, which I have vowed to change this very day. I was doing it, and five to six times a week too. That took up a lot of time along with that job. It took a lot of energy too, and while I have felt better and a little more lively overall, there is only so much one woman can do. And laundry has been the neglected party.

You would think I'd have to do laundry much more often because we would be naked all the time, but I have made the unfortunate mistake of compensating by buying lots and lots of clothes for everyone. We have way more socks, underwear, pajamas, and other essentials than any normal person would ever need, and we have way too many clothes too. I think Booie has near three weeks' worth of underwear, which is the most of anyone, but it still doesn't excuse the reason why. She has so much, so I don't have to wash as often, and that ends up working against me. Who wants to tackle laundry only to have so much that it seems impossible to do?

I'm not sure of the solution just yet but to get off my ass and just get the stuff done. Seems reasonable enough, right? It's been reasonable enough all these months though, and I have yet to have a day where I am caught up. Sure, you never get caught up with laundry, but you all know what I mean. You're caught up when there is so little to do that it seems a waste to try. So today, I am truly going to work on getting caught up. I don't think there are enough hours in this day to actually get caught up, but I will get closer, and if I have to do laundry all weekend long, then that's what I'll do. People shouldn't live like this.

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