I've been on the road much of August, living out of my red rolling suitcase, dropping in just long enough to run a load or two of laundry and head out again. The rest of the team has been road-tripping too, though with a bit less intensity. It felt good on Saturday to be doing the laundry with the intention of putting it away in drawers, of having a choice of shirt color (pink or white?) instead of the monochrome pallete I wear to travel.
After a week at the beach, I decided to stage laundry in the living room. Suitcases were emptied onto the floor, and I dragged the kids' surprisingly full hamper down the hall to join the party. "Hey, Mom," wonders the Boy, "could you order us some more shorts? We only have 3 pairs." Three pairs? They had a dozen between them at summer's start. Have they been that hard on their clothes? "Sure," I shoot back, "just let me see what you've got and we'll order enough to get you through the fall." As I chat, I'm emptying the laundry hamper. And emptying, and emptying, and...
a foot from the bottom , there is a flash of pink. Pink? Pink! Pink panties to be precise. The boys are in trouble, but it's not what you think. Panties belong to their cousin, who last graced these walls on July 27. This layer is a foot from the bottom of their three foot deep laundry hamper.
When was the last time someone did their laundry? No one knows. But the stratigraphy is clear, even without consulting our back door neighbor (a geologist). It's been way more than a month.
This got me wondering if they'd just been hamper diving while I was away. My current theory, which Math Man isn't debating (he's taking the fifth on this) is that every time they came back from a trip, Math Man washed the three or four pairs of communal shorts that they packed. So I think they've mostly been wearing clean clothes, just not much variety!