It lurks in the dark. It's waiting for you!

Its hulking blue plasticness lurks on the stair landing. It mocks and shames me. "Too busy for me?", it growls. "Oh you are just so busy! Go ahead! Pile something else on top of my already hefty heap! I don't mind." Evil laugh ensues.

This blue plastic mess that taunts me each time I walk into our bedroom is the laundry basket. It has been there for weeks. For weeks I have bypassed that pile of folded, now squashed and wrinkled pile of clean clothes. Along the way some Crest White Strips (THEY DO NOT ROT YOUR BRAIN H!)and a few Bobbi Brown assorted lip glosses have been added. Shoes have had enough babies around it to make the Macy's shoe department look depleted. Purses are strewn about like offerings to the blue plastic god. I looked at it just yesterday and a pile of plastic hangers (plastic cousins come for a visit?)have also made a guest appearance.

My friends, this is what we call a mess. A HUGE mess. A mess that has taken on a life of its own. I would not be surprised if it started talking to me for real like Marjorie the trash heap from Fraggle Rock. H and I cleaned out our basement and closets in a frenzy of organization this weekend but no one touched the laundry pile. The laundry pile so daunting Saddam could have hidden WMD's in it and no one would know. Instead more clothing was thrown at it. This time dirty clothing. It is not good. This mess must be contained. If not we might have to move.

That's what I was thinking at about 6:30 last night. It was a rather grueling night of a teething, screaming, red-faced, full-on Kim Jong Il type mood for our precious bundle of cupcakes and love snot T.D. I had just given her a bath. A bath that lead to my needing a bath due to the wonderful trick T.D. had in store for me. Just as I was about to put that naked despot butt in the tub she let loose and peed all over me. Lovely. Seeing as you are not supposed to leave a baby unattended in a tub I just went on with the bath. The warm piss soaking I had just gotten spread over my t-shirt and pants like a virus becoming cold as I toweled her off. By the time we got to her pajamas I had stripped down in her nursery to finish putting her to bed. I marched into our room ready to throw those pee clothes into the hamper when I was smacked in the face with the lurking heap of laundry that now is renting space in our room. Still I was not moved. No call to action did I have.

Until 8 pm. I was clean now. In fresh non-pissy pants and ready to relax. T.D. was down for the count after a cocktail of formula and baby motrin. I sat myself down on the couch and turned on the telly. Wife Swap. An interesting show if you like watching government sponsored socialogical experiments as your entertainment. I do! I'm not a regular watcher of this show I swear! But the five minutes I did watch motivated me beyond belief. Somehow watching those fish out of familiar water women clean a strangers house made me want to tackle that laundry heap. That and the fact that H mentioned having no clean underwear this morning.

Just another night in our house.