This is my laundry pile, more often than not. You've seen it before. (Hey, give me a break: there is someone currently residing in my apartment who goes through up to five outfits a day, depending on his mood.)
You know, Kendrick and I were sorting our clothes to send out to the laundromat the other day, and I said, "wow, in a month or so I'll be doing all this myself." And in return, he gave me a "aw, sweetie, that really sucks" grimace.
I mean...is he kidding?! He's kidding, right? I could not possibly be more excited about the prospect of having a washer/dryer of my very own to do with what I will. You New Yorkers without laundry rooms in your building know what I'm talking about: it's a dream, the idea of coming in from a rainy day and being able to throw my jeans right into the wash, or getting into toasty, straight-from-the-dryer sheets at night, or knowing for certain that my favorite t-shirt will not be returned to me shrunk down to a size more appropriate for my six-month-old (this just happened; I am not happy about it).
Anyway. This is all to say that I am very much looking forward to becoming intimately acquainted with laundry detergent very, very soon.