It seems that ever since I became a mother, I've been doing a ridiculous amount of laundry, so it would be reasonable to conclude that I would be fairly good at sorting the copious amounts of clean laundry, right?
Wrong.
Oh sure. I'm good at sorting some of the clean laundry. Underwear are fairly straight forward.
My undies are cute, Zippy's are more masculine (ie more fabric), and Baba's underwear are of the disposable diaper variety and don't end up in wash.Pants are pretty easy, too. The shortest pants belong to Baba. If the number on the size of the larger pants is below 32 the pants are mine. If the number is 32 or larger then they are Zippy's. No problems there.
Shirts aren't too much trouble either. Neat cartoon characters? Baba's! Button up and formal? Zippy's. Large T-shirt? Zippy's. Cute shirt or medium T-shirt? Mine. (Just ask me how much I paid for this shirt: Okay, I'll tell you. Less than $3! I got 3 shirts and 2 pairs of pants at Vanity for $21.75).
So what's the problem? Socks! Baba and my socks are almost identical. There have been several times when one of my socks will end up in his drawer. As Baba would say, "Uh-oh!"
(from left to right: Baba's sock, my sock, Zippy's sock)
1 comment:
We have a similar problem with socks. And a worserer problem (yes, I know that's not a word, thanks) with the people whose laundry I faithfully wash not knowing which pile is theirs. How could they not know? Guys stuff? Zicky Zou's. Black and black? Zalyssa. Pink? Mine. So why are people always digging through MY clean pile of clothes?!?!?!
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