Dear Diary 3: Chasing the Big Yellow Taxi

Dear Diary,

Saturday was a good day. It made me happy.

 I went for a walk, I finished sorting through my clothes, and culled 5 trash bags for St Vincent’s de Paul, and I put aside a few things that were never me, in fact I must have been channelling my sister when I chose them, and so I will gift them to her, should she choose to accept them. After taking out 5 trash bags of clothing and transferring winter jackets to Daughter1’s vacant bedroom I expected to see room, day light even.

 In fact I did for 7 or 8 minutes until I started hanging up all the clothes strewn about the room and stored in plastic laundry baskets. As stated previously, I have inherited quite a few items of clothing as Daughter2 downsized herself. It is a nice state of being believe me, but I had not been motivated to actually find homes in the closet for any of it.

 A year or so ago I was quite sanctimonious and adopted the policy of one thing in, two things out. Then it became one thing in and one thing out. Then it became, everyone and everything jump into the pool. Party on! Clothes started to cover the chest at the foot of our bed, until it threatened to obscure my view of the television. Instead of hanging it up I would randomly throw myself at the pile to flatten it to an acceptable view over the top level. Problem solved.

 Not quite. Then clothes started to cover the wicker chair in our bedroom. Shortly after that started the laundry basket creep. I have no issue with doing the laundry, hanging it out on the clothes line, or bringing it in at the end of the day. My issue is with sorting it. I place this fault squarely at the foot of the day itself. By the time the clothes have dried it is often the end of the day. By the end of the day I am tired.

 I have been a good person and hung my clothes outside and not used any energy except the sun to dry it, so bonus marks for me. This however makes me tired, along with the other 14,352 other things that I do each Saturday which is laundry day and everything else domestic day. So I gather in the laundry while dinner is cooking and it gets dumped in the corner of the kitchen until I carry it upstairs, to our bedroom.

 There in lies the problem. Who wants to spend Saturday night sorting and hanging clothes? I mean, there is sitting to do and television to watch and hums to hum. So one week bleeds into another and soon one basket grows into two and three and, well you get the idea. Once the Everest has risen I am no Hillary to climb it.

 So. Yes the big so. So this holidays I committed myself to having my clothes sorted and hung by the time school started again. Two weeks to sort and complete. Easy, right? It was Wednesday before I even thought about it. I rephrase that. It was Wednesday before I even wanted to think about it.

 Think about it I did, but not in a motivational or positive way. It was more to concoct reasons why now was not a good time to start. Obviously procrastination, my Achilles heel, was not serving me well.

 Wednesday I finally faced up and started. I cleared 4 bags and put them into my car immediately and drove to the charity bin and dumped them in. It must be a holiday thing as there was a veritable traffic jam at St Vinnie’s of middle aged women dumping off trash bags of clothes. I wanted it out of the house before I either changed my mind and decided that I couldn’t live without the paisley print from 1978; or the bags meandered and spread across the front foyer waiting to be deposed of.

 Action taken, superior moment of exaltation and glee for Flamingo Dancer. I emailed Daughter2 telling her how wonderful her mother was and she replied with the required applause. Life was indeed good.

 That was it until Saturday and I thought, hell this is not going to go away, and hell I have publicly committed myself to this program, now called Chasing the Big Yellow Taxi {aka you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone!]  by the family to explain the strange behaviour of mother and wife.  So back upstairs I go.

 I cleared one more trash bag; then the big moment. I started to rehang the clothes! I was good as I even turfed out any hangers that were starting to rust, or with clips that no longer clipped.  I did it in two shifts with little rests in between and time out to cook muffins. When I got to the point where I couldn’t give a stuff any more I stopped for the day. There is work left to do, but a major step has been taken.  I have a full week to complete the task so at this stage I am feeling ….happy? Domestic Goddess superiority is warm and fuzzy!

 Dear Diary, one question I ask of thee. Why is that no matter how carefully I stack the coat hangers that they still become entangled with each other? Is it just to frustrate and irritate me as I suspect? Why dear diary, why?

9 thoughts on “Dear Diary 3: Chasing the Big Yellow Taxi

  1. Dear Diary, one question I ask of thee. Why is that no matter how carefully I stack the coat hangers that they still become entangled with each other? Is it just to frustrate and irritate me as I suspect? Why dear diary, why?

    There’s a lovely scifi short story (Theodore Sturgeon? Title maybe something to do with a red racer bike).
    Ignoring the plot, the interesting hypothesis is that safety pins are larval forms of coat hangers.
    So your safety pins all disappear and go off and become a superfluity of nasty wir hangers.
    (Which eventually perhaps become bikes. It’s been a long time since I read it.)
    But clearly they are sentient, and tangling to annoy and frustrate you.

    And, btw BRAVA!


    • safety pins are larval forms of coat hangers

      Oh I did laugh reading your reply! I still have a smile on my face as I write this. I have shared with MR FD and he chuckled so much that he has started to cough.

      Thank you for making a happy moment for the FDs!


    • I feel so good about myself! There is more to do, but I have accomplished something! Something is better than nothing! I think I might take one last look over it at the end and see if I can cull a couple of things that I dithered over and kept “just in case”. If I am in the right mood I might just part with them!


  2. I remember an episode of “Lost in Space” one year in the 1960s, when I was young and impressionable. The lady of the spaceship put laundry into a device and it came out washed, dried and folded. Whoever creates a device like this will be richer than Bill Gates.


  3. Fantastic! Inspiring and amusing. Job well done on both the cleaning and the write! Thank you for this one. It speaks to me and my ever growing piles of ‘stuff’…….


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