Vacation is over and I’m faced with the arduous task of tackling the monumental mounds of laundry we now have. Clothes, towels, bathing suits, swim shoes, sheets. It should take me days to get it all done. And of course by then there will be more clothes to wash. I like doing laundry but this is even more laundry than I care to deal with.
Oh, and did I mention I’m one of those weirdos who doesn’t just sort laundry by light and dark. No, I have to be anal and sort it by light and dark, warm and cold, delicate and not delicate, and hand wash. I have to do Big’s new workout clothes separately because they can’t have fabric softener or else it will negate the absorbency of the fabric which is the whole reason Big bought these particular workout clothes. I hang most of mine and Shorty’s clothes to dry so we’ll have laundry hanging everywhere. I have my mother to thank for all these neurotic laundry rules. She’s neurotic about laundry too. It rubbed off on me and now I feel I absolutely must uphold these standards.
And now to the laundry room I go to continue depleting the waist high piles of dirty, smelly, sandy laundry.