Today, I'm facing five baskets of laundry I spent all day doing yesterday. Now there's folding, sorting for four people, you know the drill. My theory is that laundry is sexually active. I find homes for each article of clothing, only to discover more spring up in the basket. Shirts, socks, skivvies - they might as well be horny little bunnies. Why does that make me angry? Because laundry gets more action than I do.
