Every Saturday morning I start laundry, and every Saturday I curse and swear not because I dislike doing laundry but because I hate underwear! Years ago, it used to be fine, I would sort the clothes, whites, colours, dark’s, and kids. This was an easy task when the they were young , the teenage boy had tiny boy’s underwear, usually the kind where the flap was an imaginary flap. The girl’s underwear was easy too, one would have solid coloured underwear, and the other stripes/stars, any kind of pattern. Then they grew up.
After sorting, and washing, came folding, (well I don’t actually fold the underwear), I would just toss it in the right pile of clothes. Eventually with the girl’s underwear, after getting yelled at for mixing up their underwear because they now had similar ones, I gave up. I would make one pile for the girls and tell them to sort it out.
When the boy grew up, his underwear also became a problem, gone was the imaginary flap. The teenage boy and dad now had similar underwear, with the exception of size and I thought I could handle it, apparently not though. After my husband had tried to fit his package in a pair of the teenage boy’s underwear in the early morning hours, when it was still dark out, and they didn’t fit, he was not impressed because the next pair didn’t fit either. Then the teenage boy yelled at me because he had dad’s underwear which were too large. Finally, I acquiesced, their underwear is one big pile and they can now sort it out too.
Which is why I hate underwear! Socks are a whole other issue.