the laundry baskets taunt me

i don't know how working mothers do it. --working mothers whose homes do not look like they need to be on hoarders. the husband and i have no children, and yet, outside of my working hours, i can't seem to maintain some semblance of a well-cared for home. i brought the clean baskets of laundry into our bathroom with every intention of putting them up, yet, cleaning this, straightening that, showering, and etc. seemed to have gotten in the way and now, those clean baskets still sit in the bathroom, taunting me, whispering my failures to me, reminding me that i'm not a perfect wife, that i'm not meeting expectations (set by whom?), and that his parents would most certainly figure out that they were completely wrong for approving of me if they saw what a pitiful house keeper and laundry putter-upper i am.

i picture other homes kept by the wives with perfectly coifed hair wearing cute tory burch dresses under their monogrammed aprons, and vacuuming without stumble in their cute little pumps...these homes smell of freshly baked apple pies, counters set with freshly brewed sweet tea, and smudge-free windows. --that most certainly is not my home, or me. these baskets of yet-to-be-put-up laundry remind me of that.