Man and Washing Machine vs. Wife

Lest anyone think Husband is a saint, I need to expose to the public that there is a major bone of contention in our marriage -- he likes to do laundry. "Heaven!" you say? Well, it took me many years to train him to sort.

I should have known. While he was still in the USMC, he came home one weekend wearing an attractive gold knit shirt. When I complimented, he said, "Oh, it's the green swearter I wore home last month." Ahem!

We now have trouble with red -- dark red. He bought me a dark red dress a few years ago -- at a flea market. Lovely thing, but from a country that is known for bleeding colors. I loaned it to a friend of ours, and she wanted to send it to the cleaners before returning it, But he said he'd take care of it. He did! By putting it in with my whites. I have the only pink EPIC 2003 T-shirt in captivity -- yes, my favorite T- shirt, where the lizard looks like he's smoking a cigar.

Then he blithely bought me kitchen towels, which we needed. Some were acceptable, some were dark red. Son asked where we got the pink washclothes. The dark red towels disappeared, so when I needed to have more towels on hand, I asked where they had gone.

"They're down in the bottom of the sink, pushed back in the corner," Husband confessed. So he took them out and washed them by themsselves -- and they still bled.

How my good white sweater got dark red lint on it, I haven't a clue.