I've turned into my mother

October 22, 2010
It's midnight and I'm throwing the last load of laundry in to dry. I think I'm turning into my mother. She pulls all-nighters with laundry. Seriously, the woman stays up until 3 in the morning sorting, washing, drying, and folding. The whole process would speed up drastically if she'd just combine the boy white socks with the girl white socks (yes, I'm serious) and ex-na a few piles of colors like white tee-shirts with colored letters on them or combine the pinks and the reds. But no, my mom washes each color separately... sometimes even dividing a single color out into two or three other piles if there are multiple shades. She's that anal about it. The woman can get just about any stain out of a soccer uniform. And she only shrunk one sweater of mine in high school but I really think it was some sort of freak accident with our dryer.

I still have a ways to go before I'm my mom because I committed a cardinal laundry sin... I mixed my red sheets with white dish towels and I think a lone blue hand towel. I'm sure a small part of my mom has just died reading my confession. But give me a few years (and maybe a bigger house with a laundry room) and I'm sure I'll turn into a second generation laundry Nazi just like my mom.