I’m not sure when I started calling it ‘laundry’ instead of ‘washing’. Perhaps it’s a bit of Australian vocabulary that’s followed me around for the three years we’ve been back home. I do still get some funny looks from folk when I use it. But let’s embrace the Americanism (and I’ll likely use both terms interchangeably in this post) because whether you call it laundry or you call it washing… It never dies. 

We are incredibly lucky to have a decent sized utility room in our wee 1970’s semi. But I cannot stand the fact that all of the surfaces are at some point covered with either:

  1. Dirty clothes that don’t fit in the hamper (always overflowing).
  2. Wet clothes that have been washed but need sorting to hang/dry.
  3. Dry clothes that need ironing.
  4. Dry clothes that need to (finally) be put away. 

Honestly, it’s a part of my life that I just never seem to stay on top of. And it drives me up the wall. I think part of the problem is my mindset surrounding it. And perhaps my system for ‘completing’ it. 
Mindset first. Basically, as soon as I get up in the morning, I load up the washing machine with a full load of dirty clothes in order to attempt to reduce basket overflow. The problem is that I honestly then think my work is done. I walk away from the machine feeling inexplicably smug, practically dusting my hands off as I go. It’s like my mind refuses to acknowledge that there’s a slew of steps required once our LG machine makes it’s robot jingle to tell me the wash is done. Sort, dry, iron, put away. Four more steps. FOUR more steps. Yet every. single. time. I feel victorious for just putting the wash on. 
Systems next. I have a dirty washing basket in the utility room, another tall basket for ironing and a couple of carry-around baskets that help me migrate clean washing from one room to the next. But I feel like the fact that washing is always on show in my house means that I am missing a trick in my physical system/basket game. Having washing spilling out of their baskets is never a good look. And it isn’t a case of wanting an Instagramable house. It’s a case of mental health. Sounds dramatic, doesn’t it? But when at first glance, my utility room looks clean and clear, it genuinely makes me feel more calm and happy. I suppose, having the baskets all built into some massive, closable cupboard would be the dream. 
And the final fault that is likely the cause for my washing chaos is a habitual system. I put on a wash first thing in the morning and Gavin and I attempt to clear the ironing on a Sunday evening, but all of the other steps just happen as and when needed. I wonder sometimes if I was more regimented with ‘when’ I do all of the steps in the washing cycle, would I find more peace in it? 

So as you can tell, I’m on a quest to tame the recurring beast that is my laundry pile. Does anyone else find it to be the bane of their life? Does anyone feel like they have a good handle on it or have tips to share? Anyone out there really enjoys it?! If so, teach me everything you know!

Apologies if I have bored you to tears with this post. You see, I turned 33 recently and apparently these are the things that are on my mind now.