My cousin Jenny recently posted a picture of her husband's color-coordinated closet and a description of his tidy sock drawer. Thanks goodness for him he's not married to me. It's a miracle my own husband stays married to me, given the fact that his mother was a fold-as-go kind of gal. And also one of those moms who lead her kids to believe that laundry magically appeared neatly folded in their drawers when they got home from school.
I am very good at doing laundry. I am very bad at folding laundry. So, I wait until the end of the week until nine loads have piled up in our relatively small laundry room, and no one has anything to wear. Then, I enlist the help of my entire family and we catch up on Tivo'd episodes of American Idol while we sort and fold. I have to make it seem like a party. As you can see, I actually succeed in my manipulation in the inital phases. They dive into the mountains of clothes and like throwing them at each other across the room into the sorting piles.I justify my actions by telling myself that I'm teaching them work ethic (their work ethic and obviously not my own.) Because if I had any work ethic, it would have magically appeared in their drawers days ago.
