lobsterchick's Diaryland Diary

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Eureka! Gold Toe, You Thought You Had Eluded Me!

It's not so much that I don't do laundry, as that I do it then leave it all in the basement, crammed tightly into my hamper. Then I pretend like it doesn't exist, and I end up deciding between two slightly dirty pairs of socks, trying to gauge which has less dog hair on it and therefore will be less noticeable to my coworkers as a dirty pair of socks. It's not that I'm too lazy to go downstairs, it's that the temperature down there is approximately fifty degrees lower than in the rest of the house, and the floor is concrete, which, given the current sock crisis, is a real problem.

Finally, this morning, I went sheet diving and found a stopgap pair (I tend to kick them off in the middle of the night). I then ventured down into the wintry depths and managed to bring up, one step at a time, this:

I then proceeded, with the careful precision of a well-versed archaeologist, to extricate layer after layer of laundry. Such things as "Oh, there's where my work polo shirt went," and "Socks! Socks! Soooooooooooooocks!" frequently came out of my mouth. It was like Christmas day in the Cradle of Laundry Civilization. I now know what life was like at the turn of this century, thanks to the clues that this long-forgotten laundry provided.

It has also been carefully folded and sorted and put away, thanks to the Laundry Digger's tool:

Ladies and gentleman, I present to you: The FlipFold. The only thing ever advertised on an infomercial that actually works. It's a sight to behold, and I might just cry a little. Now that I have clean towels to dry my tears on.

3:35 PM - 29 January 2004

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