That Damn Laundry

It’s always the damn laundry.

Figuratively and literally.

I hate laundry.

Figuratively and literally.

After any given day, the last thing I want to give ANY ounce of the attention I have left is to that damn laundry. And every time, there it is, in the same basket (it's been in at least for the last three days) staring me in the face.

I know you know.

Because this is what we do. We stretch ourselves so thin every freaking day between the things we have to do, that by the time we get to the things we want to do, we have nothing left to give. So we start cutting the "haves" out to make room for our "wants". But then the haves pile up. And that shit ain't going nowhere. And now we just have a big ass mountain of laundry that will take up so much damn time and now we're crabby AF.

You know what else is a "have" though? Self-freaking-care and mental sanity!

...so...

If you can, if only for a day, forget the proverbial laundry!

As long as you’ve got clean underwear, you’re fine. 

Realize that NOTHING negative will happen if it doesn’t get folded that very moment. 

You know what will happen if you let that basket get the best of you? You’re immediately stressed out. Surrounding yourself, the people around you, and your space with chaotic energy. The people around you will pick up on that energy and in turn, produce more negative energy. Getting everyone’s (clean, folded, and stressed out) underwear in a bunch!

Nothing good comes of it.

It's totally ok to feel the guilt of not doing your "adult" duties. You're human. And if you're feeling that way, you're probably doing a really good job at being a human. So pat on the back!

That being said...

I need you to promise me, at least once a week, walk past your laundry basket. Use what you have left to invest right back in yourself and end your day a little more positive, a little more happy, a little more you.

That damn laundry can wait.