|Where is that delicious head?!|
Pretty much every room in the house has a pile or two or four hundred and seventeen. Lest you think I'm exaggerating, I will provide photographic evidence.
|This is what happens when my teaching semester ends, but my student semester continues|
Even my freezer has piles.
|Fancy some smushed bread with that frozen turkey burger?|
And my laundry.
|Clearly, this is the winner. (That's CLEAN laundry on top of the appliances!)|
My piles are breeding. IT'S AN EPIDEMIC!
I wish I could offer a solution for those of you who are nodding your heads and saying, "That's me! That's my house and my life, too!" but sadly, the only solution I see ahead of me is plowing through each pile, one-by-one as time allows, while the house is empty of everyone besides me and the dogs (who often provide me with piles of their own). As I wade through each stack, I will inevitably shake my head and vow never to let things get this out of hand again. Then I will move the laundry pile on my bed to the dresser in order to sleep and the cycle will not end.
I often wonder where this stacking habit originated. If memory serves me, I had piles in my bedroom as a teenager - mostly to frustrate my OCD mother. No one else in my family has this bad habit. Then again, by the time I was a teenager, all of my siblings were in grad school, married, and/or living on their own in pile-free houses and apartments. Even my ADD times fifty husband gets irritated with my stacks. He wants to rid the house of paper. I agree to an extent. Some memories are paper memories (ticket stubs and programs and kids' artwork). Some important documents are also paper (insurance claims, checks, immunization records).
I know, I know, I could scan them and keep them electronically organized, but guess what? My computer hard drive is maxed out with piles of crap too.