Holy crap I hate laundry. I hate washing it (although I do love the clean smell), I hate folding it, I hate putting it away, and I especially hate matching up 50 billion socks. I'm not kidding, we have 50 billion socks in our family. Come and count them.
I'm thinking of having a clothing strike where no one is allowed to wear clothes for a week, or if they do wear clothes, they must be the same exact clothes the entire week, underwear and socks included. And I am not washing any of it.
It doesn't matter how much laundry I do there is always more. I'm so sick of looking at the dirty laundry downstairs waiting to be done (I swear it mates at night and reproduces like rabbits), the laundry upstairs waiting to be folded in multiple baskets, and the clothes that actually are folded waiting to be put away 'cause the only time I can fold clothes is when Cooper, Halle, and Emma are sleeping and can't go in their rooms to put their clothes away.
And don't even get me started on the socks. We were at a Christmas thing at our church where John was the MC. He does such a good job. Anyway, he's giving some little anticdote about life and out of no where, to my utter shock and embarrassment he says, "my socks don't even match tonight"...............AHHHHHHH!!!
I hate laundry and I'm trying to avoid going upstairs and matching the mound of socks which the kids have started using like a big leaf pile. They jump in it, throw them in the air, put them back in a pile and start over. I'm seriously considering just throwing out dirty socks and buying new ones each week. It will be warm soon and we'll be back to going sockless anyway. Drastic I know, but we really do have 50 billion of the things. 
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