Bulimia...

I have been suffering from an acute case of bulimia lately.  Does the word acute fit in that sentence?  Do not worry readers, my weight is around what it should be (I guess!?!?).  I am talking about "house bulimia."  For years I have been a binger.  A gluttonous, insatiable, bingeing gorger involved in the worst kind of piggery.  Well, as of the past couple of weeks I have said "enough is enough."  Does my house make my butt look fat?  And the answer is a resounding YES.  First, I tackled the basement.  It was President's Day and I took the kids downstairs and that was the last time we saw the sun that day.  Around 10 D.I. bags and several garbage sacks later we saw the carpet.  Hallelujah!  But that was not the end.  The next step was the magazine cupboard.  Does anyone know if there is a commandment that says you cannot recycle church magazines?  I hope not.  I sent my kids, and a dog who is recently aspiring to become the canine version of Houdini, with a John Deere wagonload of magazines to the recycling bin located by my local elementary school.  I hope it accepts magazines.  No matter, they are out of my house.  My bedroom.  Oh, the horror.  It has been serving as an office, a genealogical society, an exercise room, a library, and occasionally a place for sleeping.  I moved some stuff around, purged Reed's side of the closet (can you say pack rat?) and cleared out some of mine (not nearly the pack rat).  The kids room got a once over (not thoroughly mind you - I have to wait until they are at school) and then tackled the hall closet.  A second truckload to D.I. and I still don't feel quite done.  I am not looking for accolades from the audience, I only write this to describe the sense of liberation I am feeling at this moment.  It really is quite a high and I am enjoying it.  Now, for the cold hard reality.  While this was going on there was a two weeks stack of laundry piling up in the laundry room.  I couldn't be bothered with folding clothes while I was purging.  That action came back to bite me.  I unknowingly took Torey over to Grandma's with mismatched socks.  There were guests there from out of town.  Lots and lots of guests.  Okay, they were relatives, but still, they were judging relatives.  OH, WHY OH WHY did she have to take her shoes off?  No one knew I purged my house.  They only saw that I had a child who was either color AND pattern blind, or that her worthless mom does not know how to do laundry.  I felt that I should explain myself.  But it would have fell on deaf ears.  The damage was done.  The proof was in the pudding.  The judgement had taken place.  My child looked like an orphan and they knew it was my fault.  I can hear it now, "What does she do all day?"  It just goes to show that appearances can be deceiving.  I would like to say I have learned my lesson from this, but I will not.  I can only hope that purging my house will help me retain some sanity and give me some incentive to be a better cleaner.  We will see, won't we?