You know what I mean – no matter how much you tell yourself you are going to finally get every single piece of laundry done – it’s like those elusive grapes coveted by that moody fox: you will never be able to reach laundry Nirvana.

NEVER.

Why? Why? Why no happy laundry basket for me, you ask? Because at the bottom of the laundry basket are the enigmatic, random pieces of cloth you think are important enough to keep. But since you don’t know where they fit into your closet or your life, you just hold onto them at the bottom of the basket, and hope that you will be able to deal with them better in the future. The bachelor socks; the long strips of cloth that might be belts of some sort; the detached parts of clothing that have been furloughed because they are non-essential. You keep them because maybe you will need them. But every time you do laundry and realize they are still sitting there, mocking you, you die a little bit on the inside.

Well, no more my friends. No more! Today I declare laundry bankruptcy and throw away these torturous remnants!

Today I am free.

When I was in my early twenties, I worked at a pre-school (best job ever!!!) and the director, Ms. Helen, was a woman who spoke Farsi as her first language. Her life had been dramatically effected by Iranian politics and she had some serious perspective. When I would get all caught up in the perceived travesties and injustices of the world and classroom as only a 22-year-old can, Ms. Helen would look at me with the face of a woman who had seen some intense shit go down and say “Karen – let it to go.”

And I did. One doesn’t argue with someone like Ms. Helen, who has figured out in her life that getting your panties into a bunch about things outside your control, or the past, or stuff that won’t matter in a month, or anything really – serves no one. Ms. Helen figured out you can immerse yourself in the frustrating, annoying, and torturous thoughts you give yourself, or you can simply breath deeply and “Let it to go.”It is not easy. It is kind of a leap of faith. You have to trust that you are exactly where you need to be, that everything you need you already have – you know, a kind of “Wizard of Oz” ending wisdom that fretting yourself into a state of agita doesn’t feel nearly as good as just being OK with everything. No matter what kind of shit is hitting the fan – it is within your power to simply sit back and say “Well, look at all that shit splattering everywhere.” OK, not my best visual – but you know what I mean.

I suppose I could conceive of a time in the distant future where I’m yearning for that hood I zipped off from a jacket five years ago, look for it in the bottom of the basket, eventually find it, and feel whole again. But every day for the past five years that hood has weighed me down. Made me feel like I couldn’t do enough. Like I was incomplete. If I had only said goodbye to the hood that never really worked for me five years ago, I would have opened myself up to the awesome incomparable feeling of an empty laundry basket.

But, I am tired of being yoked to a stupid hood albatross. F that. My jacket is fine without the tyranny of someone else’s notion that my girl must wear a hood, or of her being told she has to look a certain way to be accepted. If she feels better than ever sans head-ware baggage, I’m not going to worry that everyone else might consider her vulgar and unladylike with her free-flowing hair in the wind. I’m not going to worry that hoodless, she might never be accepted – not ever – or that she might always be alone.

Wait – what? What was I talking about? Oh, right, laundry.

Make peace with every piece (of laundry, or regret, or shame, or situations that no longer fit…). EVERY piece. And if over time it causes you more heartache than happy, LET IT TO GO.