Peer Pressure

I have come to the realization that I am a huge slob. Shush, peanut gallery. I went on a cleaning flurry tonight. It was caused partially by my effort not to throw a tantrum, and to use my energies for good instead of evil. The other part of it was the part where, after my initial cleaning, I realized that some might mock what I considered my clean orderly trunk. Specifically Friend from Work, who has yet to have a blog name assigned her, unless it's FFW. I don't heart that name though. I do heart saying heart this week, though. Anyways, the other night she told me that she hangs up most of her clothes, and that her hangers and the shirts on them all have to be hanging in the same direction or something wackadoodle like that. And so I mocked her. And realized that I am a big slob. Because,

1. I don't fold my clothes straight out of the dryer, which apparently happens in real life, as well as on the Brady Bunch when Alice is in charge.
2. I don't hang up my clothes that need hanging straight out of the dryer either. Because that is effort. I consider the effort I take to pull them from the pile I've thrown on my beanbag and drape them on my chair as sufficient. So, really, I sometimes don't hang them up at all, because once they are in the chair I can just sort through them to pick out my outfit for the next day anyways.
3. I don't iron. People who iron are crazy. And FFW and K both iron their jeans, so I know TWO REALLY CRAZY people. My theory is, it will get wrinkled in the car anyways. So if my skirt is a little wrinkly, it will just look like I drove to church or work or whatever. It happens. Why not just forgo the work part and get straight to the sitting induced wrinkles. Or in my case, the I-don't-hang-up-my-clothes wrinkles. I'm a believer in efficiency, what can I say.

So anyways, I cleaned my trunk tonight, and then I had to go back and tidy up the clean trunk. Because the wad of canvas bags I have for shopping COULD be folded instead of wadded, after all. So I kind of sort of folded each one into a wad as I shoved it into the holder bag. And the first aid kit could go under my front seat or something. So I hucked that up in the back seat, because that's one step closer to the front seat, being in the passenger part of the car. And I suppoooooose I could take the sleeping bag that has been there since I went to camp in mid-March up to my closet. But I draw the line at taking the bowling ball upstairs. Because you never know when a spontaneous bowling trip will occur, and I want to be sure that I have my own ball and shoes on hand.

The moral of the story is, I suck at cleaning. But I take pride in the little things. Like that I threw away the bagels that have been in the back seat since... you know, what, I don't judge you. Don't judge me.