Oh, I hear ya'. And while I may not have had a thong taunt me from the pile like Darks has, I find it terribly distracting when the socks want to play hide-n-seek while I'm trying to finish a bit of fiction. And the whites won't stop pointing out how other peoples' whites are whiter and I'm neglecting them. Then there's my permanent press shirts that keep shouting, "I'm wrinkling!" ESPECIALLY if I forget the permanent press settings. (But they become real sissies if I actually pull out an iron.)
But the worst is the jeans when they start singing.
Fadin', fadin', fadin
How those jeans are fadin
Bluish colors grayin'
Oh, my!
Don't try to keep 'em newish
With colors all so bluish
They've got a whiter hueish
Oh, my!
The song's not so bad but their harmonizing's TERRIBLE..
If I had to listen to the same voices you hear singing that little ditty, I’m afraid I would be tempted to wash my head out in the sink...
Bleach is something I’ve seldom ever used because it eats the fabrics and it STINKS, but I will have to use it on my whites this time. At least the new machines have a second rinse so the smell won’t be too noticeable when I wear the clothes.
I quit ironing after the divorce from the late Igor. And I seldom dry my things in the dryer, but if I hang the clothes on hangers to let them air dry, no one knows if I used a dryer or not. Of course, some of that could be from vision problems, too...
It’s too hot for jeans, now, although I do have a pair. Maybe when I lose another 10 or 15 pounds I’ll treat myself to a new pair. Maybe.