I thought I was being efficient, really.
Thursday night, I tiptoed through the bedrooms of sleeping boys to rescue hampers two shirts shy of spilling over. I collected our clothes in need of attention. I hosted a sorting party at the end of the bed -- whites, darks, and lights all piled up waiting for their trip to the laundry room downstairs.
Darks first. This load contained most of our sleepers and toddler clothes we'd need to pack for the weekend trip to Grandma and Grandpa's house. I bounced back upstairs after adding them to the washing machine...and fell asleep, in peace, while my chore took care of itself.
Morning rolled around and I hit snooze. Twice. Rushing through our routine at lightning speed, we finally made it to the pass-through laundry room connecting the rest of our house to the garage. With bags, totes, laptops, lunches, and bottles, we juggled them out to the pair of awaiting black Jeeps.
And that's when my efficient laundry plan resurfaced.
Car seats clicked and smooches kissed, my Mary Jane heels stomped back inside and over the wood floors, up the carpeted stairs, down the hall, to the nursery. One last outfit should be added to the next load I'll start right now.
Hearing the clock's emphatic tick, I clasped a green onesie and navy pants with a soccer ball on the bottom before bolting back toward the stairs. On the way down, I took them two by two until the flight angled...
and my three-inch heel caught the step...
and my right hand reached to grab the decorative ledge I fell past with alarming speed...
and my kneecaps beat the floor while
my ankles twisted and turned unnaturally
and my laundry polka-dotted the entry rug.
I didn't feel anything. Except my beating heart and racing mind, which were busy gathering a bouquet of thankful thoughts.
I wasn't holding the baby.
I wasn't holding the toddler.
It's just me.
And I'll be fine.
Whatever the side effects are.
I gathered the laundry and picked up the wooden bowl of pine cones, splashed around during 'the incident.' I rubbed my knees and headed toward the laundry room to add one last outfit before starting the next load. The machine clicked, the light flashed green. It would do my work while I went to work.
I came home yesterday to finished laundry...and a new definition of efficiency.
It's working smarter, not necessarily quicker...
Especially not on the stairs.