Things About Clothes, Part II

I finally managed to get some laundry detergent and after minimal procrastinating, got all of my laundry caught up. And by caught up I mean washed, mostly dried and piled so high in the one empty basket in the laundry room that I couldn't successfully relocate it without making 18 trips. "Catching up" laundry has absolutely nothing to do with folding it, I realized about 16 years ago when I had two small children and finding something that had been washed was nothing short of a miracle: folding and putting away be damned. Since the kids were almost as excited as I was to have detergent, their "caught up" laundry started to encroach upon mine, so I was forced to move the mountain to the next most logical place: my bed. Dirty clothes go on the floor, clean on the bed. This is a well established ritual in the life of Single Girl Liv. I like to sleep next to the pile and imagine it's a large man cuddling with me. A large, cold and unaffectionate man made up of jeans and t-shirts and socks. Someone once suggested that I put my clothes away where they "actually" go, and after a few moments of confusion when I finally figured out that they weren't talking about the floor, I told them how lonely my bed would be without my clean laundry on it. And if I didn't keep my dirty clothes on the floor, there would be nowhere for the wiener dogs to build a fort to sleep in. This is how I adult.

But after the other day and a ruthless conversation with my closet,  I have this pile of clothes that I want to get rid of. In the past I have done quite well selling my old clothes on eBay or the classifieds or wherever, but lately I have spent so much time judging the crappy clothes that other people sell in such a manner, that I am terrified to list my junk for the same public ridicule. And I am so busy hating all of my clothes that I am fairly certain everyone else will too. So the pile stares at me from a corner of my room and lures the wiener dogs into it's depths. And the longer it sits, the greater the chance that I will remember that one sweater that I put in there, and dig it out for an outfit. First world problems, you guys. I need to just swallow my materialistic pride and get rid of this crap, yo.

More importantly, and speaking of materialistic - my new boots showed up. This means the beginning of a whole new Liv, the cultivation of the Bohemian Tomboy, the end of black hoodies and Uggs - or at least the occasional reprieve. Right off the bat my daughter and a couple friends were jealous, so I will take that as a win for Liv's Fashion Sensibility. I wore them around the house for awhile and they definitely made me feel cooler. Which is saying a lot since cool has not been my middle name lately. But who doesn't feel awesome wearing Frye Boots and making chicken enchiladas for dinner? Best of all - they are SUPER comfortable - I can't wait to try them out for an entire day and see how my back does. I am sure these are the cure all I have been looking for. Now that I have clean clothes to wear them with I am golden.

Things About Doing the Right Things

Every day we are faced with choices. We have the opportunity to do the Right Thing. Or the Wrong Thing. Either way, there will be consequences. The severity of those consequences and the determination of whether they are good or bad consequences rests squarely on the choices we make.

For example, today I was faced with several ethical dilemmas that required me to discern between good and evil.

It started with getting out of bed. History and Mothers tell us that getting out of bed early is prudent. Even Benjamin Franklin, AKA Poor Richard, exhorted: "Early to bed and early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise." Despite it's singsongy excellence, this rhetoric has yet to take hold of my soul with the conviction that it should. Because in spite of every morning when I have been up before the sun, I am neither healthier, wealthier, or wiser. And some of the most profound learning I have done has happened in the wee hours, just ask anybody who has had to route the drunks from the bar at 3:30 AM. So I made the choice to stay in bed. The consequence of this action, directly, was an entirely cold house. I can easily cast blame upon the other four humans that reside here, since all of them had gotten out of bed and already left for school and my favorite child, NOONE had taken it upon herself to reload the pellet stove. My bad choice was overcome by my cold hands, which can't seem to get warm no matter how far under the covers I keep them. The only remedy was a hot cup of coffee.

The second ethical quandary that I faced today happened around breakfast time, which also doubled as lunch since I successfully avoided eating until after I had done MANY loads of laundry, made a slew of phone calls I had been putting off and finally got dressed. Just like most days in my closet, my refrigerator stared back at me with a BIG FAT nothing to eat. So I decided to just go without. Until the shakes set in, and then I ate a half pound of sharp cheddar cheese and some M&Ms, because this day, bad choices are the theme.

I went to work in the afternoon, and survived a lesson in evaluating the angles and types of triangles with a 9th grader, which very nearly made my head explode. Somehow we both survived and I came  home and did more laundry.

Now it's almost dinner time. There are two important issues weighing on me. I have some green peppers that I really need to use up and planned on making chicken fajitas for dinner. Normally this sounds awesome. But today, being a cheese-and-chocolate themed day, I can't fight the craving for something hot and baked and gooey and cheesy and totally terrible for me. Once again, my hedonism championed over my frugal sensibility and the green peppers will probably meet their fateful demise in the compost. The trouble with green peppers is that I really don't like them in anything but fajitas. I can't stand them in soup or pizza, or even in the gooey cheesy green chile and chicken and rice bake that I am making instead of fajitas. I should just man up and put them in there, but the flavor... ugh. Does my dislike of green pepper outweigh the guilt of wasting them???? The second issue, which could directly correspond to the first, or at least make it easier to decide, is the fact that I have an EMT meeting tonight and I really can't start drinking wine until afterward. Or SHOULDN'T start drinking wine until afterward. If I put the green peppers in the chicken bake, can I have wine early? Like buying an indulgence...

Not that it really helps to not have wine before the meeting. Chances are I will fight to stay awake either way. We're going over musculoskeletal injuries, and I feel as though I have had enough of those for the week, thankyouverymuch.

All of the decisions we make are based out of our own personal value systems. For me, I value sleep, cheese and wine over prudence, weightloss and propriety. Like I said before, I am a hedonist. With all of the values that correspond. In addition to food and laziness, things that are important to me are family and friends. And I would even endure a wine-less Thanksgiving to be with the people I love. Sometimes those are the choices we have to make, and they teach us what it is that is truly important to us. On the mornings that I have work to go to, to pay the bills and take care of my family, I get out of bed. If I was married to a green pepper lover, I would put green peppers in stuff. And if being with my family meant no booze for the holidays, I guess I would choose that too. Or get really sneaky. (JUST KIDDING MOM! GEEZE.)

I know the things that are important to me. And most days I think I do pretty well at making choices. Obviously, we all make the Wrong Ones sometimes. I have yet to meet someone who never makes poor choices. And if you have, I would caution you to back away slowly, then run. Because bad choices make all the good ones sweeter. Little triumphs in life, that remind us that we are strong and we are sure and we CAN do the right thing. After 5 more minutes of sleep.