my laundry is depressing me

I need to do laundry. No, really. I haven't done a load in over two weeks- since before I went up north. Not because I'm a slob (and before you get disturbed, the only good thing about the months I spent at the retail job whose name shall not be mentioned was an excessive increase in undergarments, so I'm still wearing clean things). I want to do my laundry. My clothing selections are getting fewer and fewer with each passing day. Yesterday I busted out my skirt from a halloween costume a few years back (I was pregnant cheerleader one year, so not only is this skirt totally not my style, but its also two sizes too large- so as to accomodate for my bastard underage love child). Thats how bad its getting. Why am I not doing said laundry, you might be wondering? Its been so damn hot here, and I've been trying to conserve energy, etc., so I haven't wanted to use the washing machine til later at night, when its (slightly) cooler. Everynight, I have these great aspirations to be productive, and then every night, my plans fall through. Last night, for example, I walked down to the local bomb shelter (otherwise known as the Claremont Public Library- I swear, this thing was built in the 1950s and looks like it could withstand a nuclear blast), and then was going to go home and and be productive with the cleaning of my house. Did that happen? No, of course not. I ended up wandering the streets of Claremont with Tara and then watching Cast Away. Which was a thoroughly depressing movie. I realized that if I was ever in Tom Hanks' position, I would totaly have died. My survival skills are completely lacking- it would not have been pretty. I also probably would have gone completely insane (because, who are we kidding, most of the time, I'm already half way there). Needless to say, Tara and I were utterly depressed by the end of the night. And I still didn't do any laundry! Perhaps tonight? Only time will tell.