After a few months of struggling with the concepts of Deductive Reasoning and trying to stay awake as I plundered through if . . . then . . . statements in an 8th grade Geometry class too many years ago, I challenged my teacher, Mr. Moore. “How will I ever use this in real life? Why do I have to learn this?”

“Geometry teaches you to think,” he’d said.

Having just finished all of J.D. Salinger’s books, and being a pure-bred smart-ass, I threw at him my spin of one of my favorite lines from Franny and Zooey: “But I do better when I don’t think too much.”

At that point he must have remembered he was a survivor of my four older brothers and came back with: “I promise you geometry will come in handy in the pool halls. And then one day, maybe you’ll realize it’s important in your day-to-day life outside the pool halls.”

Unlike my brothers, I didn’t learn to play pool. I did learn to do laundry, though, and all the other chores that come with ending up as a suburban mom. (Who’d a thunk, huh, Mr. Moore?). I still hate geometry and have to force myself to restrain from drinking when I help my kids with their homework (for some reason, they insist on doing it before 5:00), but I did recently discover how life-affirming a geometric principle can be in life. Look at the picture below. If you split it in half, it’s symmetrical.  That’s only possible if the baskets are equally empty.

Those three laundry baskets sit on a counter in my mudroom. There is a laundry chute above the middle one and periodically, as if they were odorous gifts from a sadistic god, dirty clothes and linens come sliding down into the middle one. When I first bought them and set them up I had this mad fantasy about how every time I walked through the mud room, I’d sort whatever fell from the sky — whites into the left basket, darks in the right, brights in the middle — and whenever one should become full, I’d toss that load into the washer.

Brilliant as that theory and plan was, I haven’t been able to follow through on it much. Most days those baskets are full to over flowing. Sometimes the piles are so large and wide, they form one monster heap that tends to slide down the front of the cabinet and spill onto the floor.

In general I am a very organized person — anal, if you ask my kids (but doesn’t everyone hang their clothes in their bedroom closet according to height and color?).  According to a NY Times article last week, I’m a bad parent because I nag at my kids to clean up their rooms on a daily basis. And yet, I can’t keep the mudroom under control.

The crazy thing is, I don’t care. Really. I hate doing laundry much more than I could ever believe in a reason that would make me care.

I painted that room my favorite color and have art pieces hanging on two walls that are never obscured with dirty clothes. So if ever the mess seems daunting, I simply shift my gaze to the more pleasant scenery.

When company is over, I shut the door leading to it from the kitchen. Not out of embarrassment — if someone is the kind of person who would judge me because I have an unusually large pile of laundry, then I probably don’t respect their opinion much at all. Instead, I shut the door out of fear someone may enter and be lost for a couple of weeks, stuck in a tiny room that may or may not smell like my son after two hours of drum practice.

When  Hurricane Sandy headed this way, one of the things on my “preparedness” list was to do all the laundry — who knew how long we could lose power, right? And have I mentioned my son plays drums? He sweats, A LOT. Despite continual re-application of deodorant, he NEEDs clean clothes.

So I did it. I did all the dirty laundry. The mound was reverted to three empty baskets, forming a geometric, symmetrical picture that symbolizes of my ability to tackle whatever job I confronted, regardless of how much I detested doing it, how much time and energy it took, and how badly it smelled. The proof is in that picture.

So you know what, Mr. Moore? You were right. Geometry did come in handy in my day-to-day life — it supported my emotional well being and proves I can do anything!