In theory it should be easy to iron
Today was my day to wash and iron tablecloths and napkins that I had been ignoring for months. There is nothing like a holiday coming to stop the procrastination. I got it done... three large tablecloths and 17 dinner napkins, but sometimes half the battle is just starting the task. Sometimes I feel as though my life is a backwards version of the book, If You Give a Mouse a Cookie. Instead of doing one thing and getting distracted by a new thought and doing that, I want to do one thing, but have to go backwards and do a dozen other things in order to begin that one thing I want to do.
For example, as I said, today was washing and ironing linen. Step one was easy enough; throw them in the washing machine on my way out to the barn. It's not really the cleaning that is difficult... it's everything else afterwards. Linen should be ironed wet because it makes the job significantly easier. So I needed a clean laundry basket to cart everything upstairs to where the iron is. The trouble is, all my laundry baskets were filled with clean laundry, some folded, some not. (The laundry escaped me at the end of the week.) In order to get a laundry basket I needed to lay out the folded clothes so that their owners could come get them and put them away. This happens on my bed. Before I could lay out the laundry, I first needed to make my bed.
By the time I made the bed and laid out the clean laundry, another fifteen minutes had passed, but now I had an empty and clean basket to use for the linen. Down the stairs to the utility room I head, to collect the wet tablecloths and napkins. One of the tablecloths is cotton, though, so I needed to put it in the dryer to get it damp dry (cotton is easier to iron this way), but I discover A.'s clothes in the dryer. I put them in a basket and put the tablecloth in the dryer.
Can I go upstairs to iron yet? No, I cannot. I am now standing in front of an empty washing machine. When you do as much laundry as I do, walking away from an empty machine is just not done. The dirty laundry is all sorted, so it's easy to just throw in another load. So I did that. I also notice a load of not-yet-folded laundry that A. had taken out of the dryer when she put her clothes in. I try not to leave clean laundry in the utility room because Nefertiti likes to sleep on clean laundry. This kind of defeats the point of washing it. I decide to quickly fold the load of laundry and get it upstairs and away from the cat. I then notice the top of the washer, which I use as a surface to fold laundry, is dirty from cats walking in the laundry tub where the washer drains and then walking across the washer leaving trails of cat prints. Folding clean laundry on top of dirty cat prints also seems to defeat the purpose of washing the clothes, so I get the cleaner and wipe off the top of the machine. Ten minutes later, the laundry is folded and upstairs, where I sort it out.
I now have the washed linen upstairs near the ironing board, the laundry has been dealt with, and you would think that I could now start ironing, wouldn't you? I'm afraid not. Because I will be ironing some pretty long tablecloths, I want to give the carpet around the ironing board a really good vacuuming before letting the clean tablecloths touch it. (I believe I've mentioned the cats, and now we can include dogs in explaining the great need for this.) In theory, I should be able to grab the vacuum and go, but a few days ago, the belt on the vacuum broke and J. ordered another one. Before I can use it, J. needs to look up the video on how to replace the belt and then replace it. It turns out to be a pretty simple task. (Can I pause and say how much I love Kirby vacuums because they are made to be fixed easily?) I now have a working vacuum in my bedroom. The carpet is looking sketchy, so I decide to vacuum there first and then move next door to the studio where the ironing board is. After I have completely vacuumed two rooms, I decide I should stop.
Finally, now, 1 1/2 hours (and five paragraphs) later, I finally can start my ironing. Substitute any number of different tasks in the place of the ironing, and you have a pretty accurate picture of what my life looks like on any given day. Actually it is a little more accurate to have children wander in and out of the scene asking questions which sometimes require me to go and do something. Today it was mostly baking and cooking questions. M., B., and D. were all going to Friendsgivings tonight (not all the same), and so they were all cooking and baking, with various questions which went along with that.
Step one of preparing for Thanksgiving dinner is done. Tomorrow's task will be cooking turkey number 1 (of 3).
For example, as I said, today was washing and ironing linen. Step one was easy enough; throw them in the washing machine on my way out to the barn. It's not really the cleaning that is difficult... it's everything else afterwards. Linen should be ironed wet because it makes the job significantly easier. So I needed a clean laundry basket to cart everything upstairs to where the iron is. The trouble is, all my laundry baskets were filled with clean laundry, some folded, some not. (The laundry escaped me at the end of the week.) In order to get a laundry basket I needed to lay out the folded clothes so that their owners could come get them and put them away. This happens on my bed. Before I could lay out the laundry, I first needed to make my bed.
By the time I made the bed and laid out the clean laundry, another fifteen minutes had passed, but now I had an empty and clean basket to use for the linen. Down the stairs to the utility room I head, to collect the wet tablecloths and napkins. One of the tablecloths is cotton, though, so I needed to put it in the dryer to get it damp dry (cotton is easier to iron this way), but I discover A.'s clothes in the dryer. I put them in a basket and put the tablecloth in the dryer.
Can I go upstairs to iron yet? No, I cannot. I am now standing in front of an empty washing machine. When you do as much laundry as I do, walking away from an empty machine is just not done. The dirty laundry is all sorted, so it's easy to just throw in another load. So I did that. I also notice a load of not-yet-folded laundry that A. had taken out of the dryer when she put her clothes in. I try not to leave clean laundry in the utility room because Nefertiti likes to sleep on clean laundry. This kind of defeats the point of washing it. I decide to quickly fold the load of laundry and get it upstairs and away from the cat. I then notice the top of the washer, which I use as a surface to fold laundry, is dirty from cats walking in the laundry tub where the washer drains and then walking across the washer leaving trails of cat prints. Folding clean laundry on top of dirty cat prints also seems to defeat the purpose of washing the clothes, so I get the cleaner and wipe off the top of the machine. Ten minutes later, the laundry is folded and upstairs, where I sort it out.
I now have the washed linen upstairs near the ironing board, the laundry has been dealt with, and you would think that I could now start ironing, wouldn't you? I'm afraid not. Because I will be ironing some pretty long tablecloths, I want to give the carpet around the ironing board a really good vacuuming before letting the clean tablecloths touch it. (I believe I've mentioned the cats, and now we can include dogs in explaining the great need for this.) In theory, I should be able to grab the vacuum and go, but a few days ago, the belt on the vacuum broke and J. ordered another one. Before I can use it, J. needs to look up the video on how to replace the belt and then replace it. It turns out to be a pretty simple task. (Can I pause and say how much I love Kirby vacuums because they are made to be fixed easily?) I now have a working vacuum in my bedroom. The carpet is looking sketchy, so I decide to vacuum there first and then move next door to the studio where the ironing board is. After I have completely vacuumed two rooms, I decide I should stop.
Finally, now, 1 1/2 hours (and five paragraphs) later, I finally can start my ironing. Substitute any number of different tasks in the place of the ironing, and you have a pretty accurate picture of what my life looks like on any given day. Actually it is a little more accurate to have children wander in and out of the scene asking questions which sometimes require me to go and do something. Today it was mostly baking and cooking questions. M., B., and D. were all going to Friendsgivings tonight (not all the same), and so they were all cooking and baking, with various questions which went along with that.
Step one of preparing for Thanksgiving dinner is done. Tomorrow's task will be cooking turkey number 1 (of 3).
Comments
I have thought of that book so often in my daily tasks. Nothing is straight-forward and the tasks on my list for the day should only take an hour at the most. Yet, somehow, each one is disrupted in process by other things that have to be done before I can proceed with the next step. It's highly unusual that all the tasks for a given day are crossed off by the end of the day, and yet, it's not like I sat around eating bon-bons. Ha!
It goes back to that wonderful statement you made a few weeks ago. "I get to bed wondering what it is that I have done in the day, but when I don't do it (whatever "it" is) for a couple of days, things descend into chaos."