whining and complaining

I know I really don’t have any right to complain, but brace yourself for the whining anyway.

After I moved out of the house the laundry has never been done the same.  Dirty clothes are never sorted by color or type or anything.  Everything is just thrown together and washed.  Clean clothes are piled in huge piles in the upstairs loft and folded when someone gets around to it.  They will probably be there several days.  After they are folded they sit in piles waiting for their owner to decide to put them away.  This could also take several days.  During this time the piles might be dug through as kids look for their favorite shirt or a clean pair of underwear.  After the piles have finally been put away there are remnants of laundry scattered all over the floor.  Socks without matches, used dryer sheets, random underwear, kitchen towels and who knows what else.  These things stay scattered around the room until they are deemed dirty again and rewashed.  It is a never ending cycle.

The loft on a good day.

The other day I picked up the loft.  I threw away 12 dryer sheets.  I folded what laundry was left choosing to rewash most of the socks because by that point several dirty ones had been discarded around the room as well.  I wasn’t about to do the sniff test on them.  Really…it’s insane.  It’s gotten to the point where at least 2 of my kids wear mismatched socks to school on a regular basis.  Now I understand that kids are lazy and oftentimes don’t care about their socks.  When I did laundry on a regular basis they wore matched socks because I either made them match them or I did it.  There was never opportunity to wear mismatched socks.  I guess I shouldn’t care much, but it bothers me.  In fact the condition of the house as a whole bothers me greatly.

This weekend I had the kids to myself, because their dad was out of town.  I planned to make them help me clean the place up.  On Saturday morning before we had a chance to get started my dad showed up to do a few repairs.  He was not a happy camper.  You see the house is his.  He bought it for us when we moved back to the states.  He knew how much I needed to have my own place when I got back so he made sure I did.  The house was beautiful.  The yard was immaculate.  It was perfect.  When I decided to divorce my husband I knew that I would be the one moving out of the house.  I knew that there was no way he would agree to it.  I was ok with leaving it, because I knew I couldn’t really afford to pay the rent on it.  I knew my dad would agree that me moving out would be the best thing.  So the house has slowly fallen on hard times.  I come over and cook, and help pick things up, but I rarely have time to do much cleaning.  Part of me gets frustrated that it doesn’t seem to matter if I clean or not, because it will never stay that way.  After my dad left we cleaned.  We folded clothes.  We dusted and wiped and vacuumed and mopped.  Every room in the house was cleaned.  I did loads of laundry as well.  By the time Ross got home on Sunday afternoon the house was done.

Ross says he’s going to hire someone to come in and clean for him.  I don’t blame him.  He works long hours.  He can afford a house cleaner.  I just hope he actually does it.  He’s not so great at following through on stuff like this though so I’m not holding my breath.  I just know that I don’t want to keep cleaning his place and mine.  If a housecleaner does come the kids will have to pick things up before she can clean, but maybe knowing someone is coming to finish the job will be the incentive they need to start it.