This is the way we wash our clothes, wash our clothes, wash our clothes...

It's the bane of my existence.  It's the thorn in my side.  It's the ache in my-achin' back.  No, not the adorable baby in the laundry basket (those clothes are clean, by the way).

It's the laundry.

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Two days a week my children carry the "soiled" clothes out to the laundry area in our garage (and by soiled, I mean boy-smelling, peed on, lunched upon and "I let my friends drag me through the playground by my feet" clothes, mixed with a hefty amount of perfectly clean clothes that were tried on once and rejected, or better yet, never even made it in the drawer).  They do a pretty decent job of sorting them by white, medium and dark into three large baskets.  But then it is like three swiftly moving freeways that have all merged into one interstate, and there is a massive laundry traffic jam.  I then spend the better part of many days washing, folding and putting them away, never done before the next sorting day comes. 

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Ok, I confess.  I wash and dry them, then drag them out in many baskets to the couch to be folded.  I do eventually put them away, but not before I have washed several more loads that are in various stages of the process.  Yeah, basically my couch looks like the discount bin at the local Goodwill - all the time.  We clear it all off for company (the baskets of clothes make very nice foot rests for our guests), or drag them into my room if someone really special comes over (and by special, I mean, someone who is either a marvelous housekeeper or a total gossip.  We must not, as my father used to say "air our dirty laundry"!).

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But no more, I tell you, "No more!"

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This week I spent two mornings, between nursing Jonah boy and resetting Dinosaur Train on Netflix 12 times for Tessa, clearing the rubble that is my garage floor and making a laundry zen garden for myself.  Darnit all, if I am going to spend half my life doing laundry, it's time to do it in a space that I don't hate.

Next, I arranged the baskets for sorting, and created a makeshift folding table out of boxes and a hunk of drywall.

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I was so proud, I took Joanna out to show her.  And Stephanie.  If you come by, I will show you too.  I tried to grab Ellen from off the lawn and drag her in the house by her hand but she had to leave for work.  That's ok, I'll wait and show her after I install my new hanging rod for the hang-up stuff. I will also burn incense and play Enya music to enhance the zen-like feel.  I'm mad I tell you!  Simply mad!  Wua-ah-ah-ah!

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But here is the best part.

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I don't bring the laundry in the house anymore.  I wash each load, and as I take the clothes out of the dryer, I immediately sort them into the kids baskets for them to fold...or not.  I really gave up caring about them having folded clothes in their drawers about a year ago, after I saw what they do with the clothes I fold for them whilst digging through their drawers (the little neanderthals).  I fold towels, grown-up and baby clothes, and hang up the nicer of our thrift store-like attire on hangers.  I have a bin for the socks waiting to find their eternal companions, and a bucket for those who have found their mates.  I don't spend a whole lot of time putting clothes away, but instead I just take one stack in with me after each trip to the garage.

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Today something totally freaky happened.  I finished the laundry.  I even wandered out there two more times out of habit, but alas, there were no more dirty clothes to wash.  And the next sorting day isn't even until Monday!

Now, you probably had this all figured out a long, long time ago.  I know.  I'm slow.  But I'm a slow person with a really groovy laundry space, baby.

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Tours will be on Fridays from noon till two.  If you're nice, I'll let you play matchmaker with ths socks.