Casual (drug and pain induced) Friday Observation

Laundry is really all about underwear.

You've got your favorites, the newest ones, the cutest ones, the sexy black ones. Once those all hit the hamper, you move on to your basics, the "if I was in an accident, I wouldn't be too ashamed" pairs. Then, you've got the "oh man, I hate these" pairs.

And then, it's the back of the drawer, the "why didn't I go to Target on the way home, I should have known the laundry room would be in use AGAIN" pairs.

That's right, the granny panties.
The old fashioned ones that were either mis-sized or from a period in the evolution of your waistline you'd like to forget. The Urkel-esque ones that have an unintentional control top effect. And you know they're either white or beige.

Or perhaps, perhaps, it's a thong. That peer-pressure purchased pair of panties that you didn't even cut the tags off of, the ones that make you walk very, very carefully and make you uncomfortably aware of every seam and thread in the pockets of your jeans.

Hmm, an accidental girdle or a $15 string of dental floss?
Time to buy a roll of quarters, grab a magazine and sit through a few spin cycles.