Tomato, Tomahto

I absolutely love to do laundry.  I also happen to [sometimes] be quite a perfectionist.  (Ok, that's probably more like a lot of times.)  Either way, to me, laundry is the most satisfying, rewarding household task that a perfectionist could tackle - little piles of alike clothes, fresh smells, warm towels, perfect folds - what's not to like?!  But I've come to realize that not everyone has the same laundry passion that I have.  Again, it's one of those things that you either love or hate, and, lucky for Brian, I happen to love it!

Fortunately though, Brian is just as careful when he does laundry.  He doesn't mix colors, he errs on the side of safe when it comes to a garment that may or may not belong in the dryer, he is great at switching loads and not leaving the wet clothes in the washer for a few days before throwing them into the dryer, and he generally comes out with all of our socks.  I on the other hand am a kind of an efficient freak about laundry.  I err on the side of how will it dry quicker with less wrinkles?  (The answer is always the dryer.)  98% of the time that I do a load of laundry, it's a full load.  (I can blame this on my 'there's always room in the dishwasher for another dish' upbringing.)  But, the one thing that Brian isn't so good at is folding - 1.) He doesn't like to do it; and, 2.) I'm a perfectionist, so I notice when something is folded sloppily.  (This doesn't bother me a bit though.  I happen to love folding!)  A lot of times, Brian is in charge of switching loads, and I am in charge of pre-piling and folding.  (For those of you that are not familiar with pre-piling, that is the point at which you take the dirty laundry and pile it into its specific loads - whites, darks, lights, etc. - which can also involve separating a load if it is too big.  Pre-piling, folks, get with it.)

The other day, however, I had pre-piled the dirty laundry, expecting to take part in each task of the laundry cycle.  Brian came upstairs from the basement.  My nazi laundry intuition kicked in, and I wondered what he was messing with down there.

He explained that he had switched the loads.

I asked slowly, 'which ones?'

He continued to explain, 'there were two piles, the reds and the grays, and I put the grays in.'

I was confused.  I don't usually get that detailed when it comes to pre-piling, but I suppose if my mind was elsewhere it could very well happen.  I wouldn't put it past me.  But I continued to think.  I know I didn't separate our dirty laundry by colors.

And then it dawned on me.  Reds were 'darks'.  Grays were 'lights'.

'Oh, Love!'  I explained gingerly that the piles that Brian assumed were 'red' and 'gray' were actually 'darks' and 'lights', respectively.

I could blame this on my Ohio State Buckeye loving husband seeing only in 'scarlet' (red) and 'gray', but, in his defense, there were a lot of reds in the 'dark' pile and a lot of 'grays' in the light pile.

In the end, the laundry was done, perfectly folded, and put neatly away.

Eh, you say tomato, I say tomahto!