How trad am *I*?

Now, aren't you glad I didn't pop in something like a Happy Mondays video? Enough random...


In a not-so-distant past life, I kept house like a fiend, mostly according to the traditional days of the housework week. Monday? Laundry. Tuesday? Ironing. Wednesday? Sewing, if needed. Thursday? Grocery store. Friday? Deep clean the house. Saturday? Baking. It worked. It *fit*. And why I abandoned that I have no freakin' idea.

I tripped over *laundry*, people, and nearly cracked my skull open on the dresser. Gets better. Under the laundry? There was a boot, one of Didgeridoo Boy's honkin' black boots, and I damn near broke my pinky toe going into takeoff. That was it. Seriously. What the hell is wrong with me, and when did I become one of (gasp) (now whisper) those people? The HORROR! THE SHAME!

Today, I am doing the laundry. All of it. Our hallway is covered in sorted piles, the cat is in hiding (because I do love tossing the laundry over the balcony and she met a pile of towels the hard way not long ago), and our rather large breakfast bar is cleared (YAY! YAY! YAY!) for folding. I'm not stopping until every last pile is beaten into submission.

Of course, given the huge project this house has become (why did I unpack fifteen tightly packed boxes of small things, and spread them all over the living room?), Tuesdays have been reassigned to purging, and Wednesdays will be for organizing. Screw ironing and sewing right now. I don't have space to do either due to all the tsotchkes.

Back to the beatings!