Laundry: the great thought-provoker

Hey, it's Saturday night.  Those of you with lives are... not in front of the computer.  Perhaps you are out on the town, or socializing, or just enjoying a quiet evening with those you love.  But not me!  No sir!  Ever the rebel, I have seized the evening to catch up on laundry.  Before going to bed early.  Cuz I'm such a wild one.  Look out.
 
Moving on....
 
Here are the things upon which I have mused, tonight:
 
1) No matter how long I leave the clean laundry in the basket--even if I've moved said basket upstairs to the convenient location of trip-me-on-my-way-to-bed-every-night--the clothes do not put themselves away.  Ever.  They will still be there when it's time to do laundry again.  Well, most of it is still there.  Not the stuff I already pulled out.  Because...
 
2) It is possible for me to wear all of the comfortable and non-ancient underwear in my drawer and out of the clean laundry basket before either child runs out of clothes.  That can't be right.  I'm bigger than they are. I should get more stuff.  Note to self: stop buying things for those spoiled kids.
 
3) I have a pair of panties that feature cartoon pictures of... panties.  They make me happy.  I may have giggled while I put them in the dyer.
 
4) Bras do not like to be alone.  When the washer stops, I open the lid and begin my routine.  Grab a handful of clothes... shake them apart and put in dryer.  Grab another handful... shake apart... hang shirt that can't go in dryer... put the rest in the dryer.  Grab a third handful... which is actually a huge mutant knot of bras that spent most of the spin cycle having an orgy... and one of Monkey's socks.  Put sock in the dyer, spend 20 minutes disentangling the bras and hanging them up.
 
5) How many times do you suppose I will have to find coins, rocks, acorn caps, and assorted unidentifiable tidbits at the bottom of the washer before I will remember the check Monkey's pockets?  Whatever number you said, you're wrong.  Add at least a dozen.  I'm slow.
 
6) The bras flaunt their mating, but the pajamas are just sneaky.  They multiply in the dryer.  How many kids live in my house, anyway?
 
7) If I stick my head in the dryer and ask politely, can I trade in some of the extra pajamas and get back some of the missing socks?  Please? 
 
8) Oh, look!  There's all the stuff I hung up to dry, the last time I did laundry.  I wondered where it was.  I should take it upstairs.  Well, maybe later.  Or maybe I'll just forget.  ("A boat?  Hey, I saw a boat!  It went that way!")
 
9) The ex has his own stash of socks, undies, and pajamas for the kids.  Naturally, sometimes I end up with things from his house, and he with items from mine.  We do our best to launder and return.  So far we've been pretty good about buying things that are different enough to easily identify as belonging here or there.  But there's this one pair of Buzz Lightyear underwear.  I didn't buy them; he did.  I keep sending them back to his house.  He keeps sending them back to mine.  They've travelled back and forth--unworn--at least five times, now.  Somehow Monkey got his hands on them and wore them this week.  That's fine.  But I seriously considered throwing them away rather than putting them in the dryer.  They're not mine, and the ex is too dumb to recognize them as his.  Those tiny Buzz undies are irking me.  (But I didn't throw them out, because that would be wasteful and cause me to howl at the moon in anguish.)
 
10) Sheets and towels left in the dryer?  Also don't put themselves away.  But they do make me say colorful things when I toss the first handful of wet clothes in on top of them.