Now, this is an exciting topic for a blog about food and life.
I'll confess right here. I don't understand laundry and frankly, Scarlett, I don't want to.
Here's my idea of washing clothes: put them in the machine, add laundry powder, liquid or tablets, press the button that says "Medium Load" and have a beer. When you hear the buzz, raise the lid, put the damp clothes in the dryer, press the button that says "Dry" (imagine that!) and have a beer.
Two beers later your clothes are washed and dried. Following this the most efficient approach is to leave them in the laundry basket and pull them out as needed, but if you have to get all Domestic about it you can "put them away" where they "belong", which, if I ruled the world, would be in the laundry basket!
Is that so difficult?
So, in another life I heard a voice intone "You're not going to wash that with that, are you?"
Well, obviously I was so I immediately fell back to the defensive position and said "No, why do you ask?" Answer a question with a question I always say.
"Oh, well, that will turn that that color and that just wouldn't do," came the voice from beyond.
"Well," I replied, "I like that color and that color and if that color became a lighter or darker shade of that color that would be OK by me."
Over the years I've learned that *silence* in regards to laundry is a Bad Thing. The Intel 286 that is my brain quickly sorted through the alternatives.
"On the other hand," I said as if hypnotized, "I don't think I saw the dark, red thing that was hiding behind the nice white thing. Yeah, that's the ticket, stuff was hiding behind other stuff and I'm glad you were here to catch it."
(I added that last part for effect, but it seemed to work.) Soon the washing machine was humming along and I was able to crack open that beer.
Life is good, I thought. I contemplated the night...