Laundry is my nemesis...

It really is. Anyone who knows me knows this: I always (repeat, ALWAYS) have at least 3 load of laundry wrinkled and smashed into laundry baskets waiting to be folded/hung/rescued and at least 3 loads waiting to go into the washing machine.

I can keep a pretty clean house. I can manage life pretty well for our family of four. I can cook, feed a baby, answer emails, and learn a song all at the same time. But I cannot stay on top of the laundry situation.

I don't have a problem starting, sorting, even switching the loads over. The real trouble ensues on the back end. I think I honestly have some kind of mental block against the folding of laundry. IT'S JUST SO DANG BORING!

So then, when I finally get around to what has become a pile of clothes so large that it's nearing ceiling height, it takes me 2 hours to do the job. It's wrinkled. Bad. My back hurts from the folding and the carrying and the hanging.

So why, you might ask, do I not just fold/hang/put away the laundry as a single load is finished. The answer, my friend, is I DO NOT KNOW. I think there's something wrong with me.

My mother always tells me how much easier it would be if I Emily-Posted my way through laundry, not letting it pile up on me and staying on top of it. And I know this. Thank you, Mother. I am very aware as I am now buried underneath two tons of clean clothes.

Don't know why I am writing about this, except that maybe I need to hear that I am not the only one who fights the good fight, but usually loses, in the laundry battle.

I will conquer, one day, and I will write about it in all of my glory. But until then, I'll be here, writing about folding wrinkled clothes instead of actually doing it!

Confessions From the Socially Clumsy...

I forget birthdays. Almost all of them. And when I DO remember that it's someone's BIG DAY, it's too late to mail a card or a gift without them realizing that I either, a: forgot and therefore was late, or b: didn't forget but just didn't make it enough of a priority to get it done on time and therefore was late.

I am also a terrible gift-wrapper. On the rare occasion when I DO remember your birthday, and I have even remembered to get you a gift, I usually forget to wrap it until the very last minute, and then I go on a search through the deep, dark canyons in my gift-wrapping bin (let me point out how ironic it is that I even HAVE a gift-wrapping bin) to find the appropriate bag/box and the corresponding tissue paper.

The problem, however, is this: I NEVER, and I say NEVER, have any tissue paper. And I might or might not have an appropriate gift bag, which explains why your baby shower gift from me was the one in the Santa "Ho-Ho-Ho" bag, the one with no tissue paper and your name written in sharpie on the outside of the bag. Hey, at least it wasn't still in the Target bag. I've been known to pull that little number a few times, which I am not proud of, but hey, from far away maybe it looks like a polka-dot gift bag.

*Sigh*

I think good ol' Emily Post would have a few things to say about this, things that I am not sure I want to hear but things I might should learn anyway. I bet all of her gifts looked like they just rolled off of the gift-wrapping line at Nordstrom, with crisp edges, perfectly-tied ribbons, and that expensive double-sided tape that you stick under the flaps so that from the outside you can't see any tape at all. I bet she had a filing system for all of her cards, too.

One day I am gonna have everyone's birthdays on my iCal with alarms that go off 5 days before to remind me to send cards/gifts. One day I am going to go to Party City to stock up on tissue paper and gift-wrap galore! One day I am going to conquer this disease known as social clumsiness.

But today is not that day, my friend.

No, today is the day when instead I am setting a timer for every 10 minutes as I attempt to potty train my almost 2-year-old. Today is the day when I am bribing my almost 2-year-old with any and every thing I can think of to get her out of diapers and wiping her own rear-end for once. Today is the day when my almost 2-year-old holds such power over me that she can reduce me to near tears just by peeing (AGAIN) in her training panties and then running through the house screaming, "NO, MOMMY, NO, MOMMY," as I try to stop her to get her to change her panties, just to then start the WHOLE PROCESS over again.

Today is THAT day.

So, if today is your birthday, or even if it's tomorrow (or next week, or next month, or next year), know that I love you a whole lot more than Emily Post loved HER friends and family, but that in lieu of a card and/or gift, I will ask Emerson to dedicate one poopy training panty, or one out-in-public temper tantrum, to you as a tribute to you on your special day.

What a gift.

About "The Not-So Emily Post"

So I've always wanted to be a blogger, right? Not a lame blogger who writes to free her tormented soul, but a blogger who writes something mildly entertaining and who helps her readers take a mental break from life for even just a few minutes. Yes, I've always wanted to be a blogger.

And then I suddenly realized, hey, I have fingers, hey, I can type, hey, I have the internet...OMIGOSH, I AM A BLOGGER!

Then I thought and thought and thought about what clever little name I could come up with for my blog, something cutesy and memorable. And I was like, ok, that is just stupid, who cares what your blog title is. Then, I realized that only EVERYONE cares, and it's only the MOST IMPORTANT part of the blog...aside from the clever content, the page decor...ok, so it's actually the LEAST IMPORTANT part. But for someone like me who has a lot to say but not a whole to say, if you know what I mean, the title is pretty important, because it might be the only interesting thing that people read on the whole blog.

So, I thought to myself, "Self, what is it about you that makes you, YOU?" And I thought and thought. And thought some more. And I wondered about all of the intelligent things I could write about, all of the best of the latest trends and little insights about life.

I then came to a realization that was mildly disturbing yet it raised such a level of self-awareness that I almost had to take a moment of silence. I AM SOCIALLY INCORRECT!

Yes, that is like "politically incorrect," except for the politics part (because I'm ALWAYS write about that!).

One recent event comes to mind that points to my social incorrectness. I was tired of storing all of my wedding china (which I had NEVER opened or used) in my hallway pantry, so I came up with a great idea to post it in the CraigsList classifieds to sell. I didn't think anyone would ever answer a posting like that. But then again, it IS CraigsList, a forum where people buy haunted cars and kidneys, so I shouldn't have been too shocked to have found a buyer. Lo and behold, a few days after posting my ad, a girl calls and wants to buy it all. It wasn't cheap either! So, off I drove with my china loaded up in the Sequoia, to sell my precious wedding china to some stranger for hundreds of dollars (that I later spent on clothes).

And that, my friends, is where I came up with the title for my blog. I realized that, were Emily Post still alive (I think she's dead, right?), she would have dropped in a faint to hear that I had sold my precious wedding china, and would have been even MORE appalled that I had never USED it for entertaining. She might have keeled over dead to hear that I still use my chipped Target dishes for every meal, even (gasp!) CHRISTMAS DINNER!

I am the farthest thing you'll ever find from Emily Post, but I am a WHOLE lot more fun than she ever could have been, I guarantee you THAT!

And so begins "The Not-So Emily Post" posts, and yes, I will do my best to make her roll over in her grave. I won't have to try very hard - apparently it just comes naturally. Don't mention to her that one time, when I had company, I didn't change the sheets before the next round of guests came in...I mean, they only slept in that bed for one night!!! And no, of COURSE it wasn't when YOU spent the night. Silly!

Until next time and another misadventure in social incorrectness...leave a comment and tell us all about YOUR greatest social faux pas to date!