I have a dirty, messy, big secret, and his name is Ed. My husband, children, and fur babies are familiar with the disruption he has caused in our household. The tension of having him holed up in my bedroom has, at times, been almost unbearable. Especially, as someone who has two of several professions ; a closet organizer and style consultant–to come out and admit that they have a problem like this is embarrassing. Very embarrassing.
“Ed” made his first appearance after the birth of my first child. He was smaller then- a wisp of what he soon would become. He would show up in the beginning of every week, a small loose bundle; composed of baby clothing, burp cloths, baby bed linens, and clothing that fell victim to baby spit up. I didn’t think that it would ever become a problem–that once I got the hang of being a mommy–he would go away.
He never did stay away for long.
By the time baby number two and three came, I was in deep despair that there was a seemingly permanent addition to my bed; a ginormous mountain of laundry so epic that I couldn’t begin to deal with it.My obsession with clean linens and towels had fed the monster, and pushing the pile down to the bottom of the bed and covering it with a pretty quilt didn’t make it go away. One day , I finally got up the courage to ask my husband for help. I had named our laundry pile Ed, and had taken the first step in acknowledging that there was a problem.
Ed mocked me. He took over and was fed by daily baskets of clean laundry that built up too quickly. Having little ones with needs came first; sorting and folding came last. Ed even had developed a voice. When I would walk into the room, he would say “Hello, Cherry. I told you that I would be back!” Giving Ed a voice was a stress reliever for me because it gave a quick release from the tension of seeing him daily. The rest of my home is OCD immaculate, but for some reason, when it came to the laundry, I felt like Sisyphus, and Ed was my boulder I had to push up the hill everyday. The boulder that rolled right back down over me.
I had five people’s laundry to do every week, and I was failing at it. Humor made it bearable. When Ed gets folded, we call him Edward, and when he gets subdivided into smaller piles; Edwinas. I tried sending the laundry out to a service but my clothing came back dingy and didn’t smell as clean. I eventually enlisted the help of the kids and nanny. We laughed as we folded the Edwards and Edwinas. For some reason we had even given the smaller piles fancy English accents.
Lately, I’ve been able to conquer Ed all on my own by “just doing it” and ruthlessly putting the laundry away as it comes out of the dryer—no matter how tired I am. But when the laundry is put away, I look at my cleared bed, and hear a voice that sounds like it’s coming from deep within the back of my closet ” I’ll be back, Cherry! I’ll be back! Mark my words!”
Washer time = 30 minutes
Dryer time = 60 minutes
Clothing folded = 7-10 business days
Piles put away = 14 business days
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