Tracey hates the way I wash our clothes.
I don't blame her. I hate it too.
"They go in dirty, they come out clean," I told her on the weekend. "What wrong with that?"
What makes this worse is when Tracey first moved in with me I gave her the 'separate the whites' lecture. Although I can't remember this I feel like I was there because of the detail Tracey goes into when she's retelling the story.
In my defense I would like to point out I do, in fact, separate the whites from the towels from the colours - it's just sometimes, when I'm down to the last of the pile there isn't enough for a full load of each. So shoot me, I like an empty laundry basket.
Apparently I also suck at hanging clothes out.
Tracey has developed a system whereby she hangs each child's clothes together on the line, making it simpler to bring the clothes in and put them straight into the appropriate wardrobes.
I have developed a system whereby regardless of how they're hung I bring the clothes in and dump them on our bed ready for sorting when she gets home from work.
My trouble is I can't tell which garment belongs to which child. The sizings are too close. To make things worse, we hand a lot of clothes down, so picturing who I've seen wearing a skirt or dress doesn't help. To make things even worse, everything is pink.
But I guess that bits kind of my fault. Luckily most of our kids are girls :)
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