Of all items, tissue is the most undesirable to launder. Although soft on the nose and strong enough for a man-sized sneeze, it disintegrates in the washer. An undiscovered half-crayon, strategically wedged in the tiny pocket of a youngster's coveralls, can wreak havoc. Surviving the wash, it quietly makes its way into the dryer, where it melts and oozes through everything else in the machine. From time to time I'll go on a cleaning frenzy.
Pillows are a chapter on their own.
A catastrophe of humungous proportions. Not only is every nook and cranny of the Maytag clogged with chips of sponge, but your mind begins to overload with scenarios of how to deliver the eulogy for the family heirloom. This is a laundry day at its worst. I vowed, years ago, never to own a laundry basket. I grew up with a laundry basket.