CONTAIN

In life, pain, suffering, and laundry are inevitable; however, being miserable is an option.

Mountains....boulders.....stinky.....unending.....chaos....words used to describe the full-on-madness of the dirty laundry situation at mi casa.  I go to bed with the dryer humming and wake up with the washer filling.  And it's still never enough.  But, dirty clothing is used clothing, and clothing well lived-in is better than clothing collecting dust at the back of some closet.
The thing is, I used to fight my laundry.  And my laundry fought me.
I'd simply proclaim I wasn't going to do it today.  I'd get to it tomorrow, and then tomorrow would come, and I'd tell myself I have a million other clean shirts, I really don't have to worry about that one basket of laundry that is not clean.  And one basket turns into seven or eight very sneakily in a house with a working husband and children.  It overflowed the baskets even and overtook my bedroom.  I still fought with bitter resistance against this hated duty of mine.  I'd grumble and complain and become irritated, did you know that there literally are NO weapons in the war on laundry? 
I am finally at peace with my laundry.  If I can get to it today, I do it, without complaining, because I've learned that ignoring it completely does not mean it disappears.  If my day is too busy for sorting and folding I am content with letting it wait until I have the availability. 
There is enough room in this house for all of our laundry.  There is not enough room for me to be miserable about it.  Our four walls can contain a lot of junk, whether it is in it's designated area or littering the hallway as Landon's flashcards do at this very minute.  But I don't have the extra space for negativity towards something that is not going to stop whether I want it to or not.
It's not like I enjoy doing laundry now.  But I do it with a smile on my face. 
I didn't give up on my war, I just realized I could not win, but that didn't mean I had to let it beat me.
I only have so much room in my life for anger, intolerance, and frustration.
Why not save it for something much larger than a simple white basket with holes on the sides which may or may not be full today?

Since I cannot control the laundry in any way, I may as well make room for it without filling the space in between with misery.  There is only so much laundry this basket can contain.  There is only so much emotion that my day has capacity for.  I'd like to make them happy ones, whether the basket is empty, or spilling out and overtaking my bedroom once again.