Every week, Hubby brings in a laundry bag full of his uniforms that he has worn all week for to be washed. He works for one of the rare trucking companies that has a dress code, so his clothes have to be washed by the time he leaves out again. This week was no different. He brought his bag in, dropped it before the washing machine and headed almost straight for a shower. He stopped to say hello and chat with me first. Isn't he sweet. Some weekends are better for me than others. Some weekends, I'll have his clothes washed as soon as he walks through the door, some I will have them on hangers when they come out of the dryer and others will find them in a pile of laundry on the couch, waiting for me to hang them after waiting until the last second to wash them. This week is sort of a good week. After running all day today, I came in and washed his uniforms and put them on hangers. For reasons I don't remember, I laid his shorts across the washing machine and placed my hand on them. They were lumpy. I dug around in his pockets to find a wet, crumpled sock in each one. So I took them outside where he was tilling to show him my discovery.
"It defeats the purpose for me to wash socks when they are balled up in the pockets of your shorts!"
Sly grin. "Find them in my pj shorts?"
"No. In your work shorts." This is where that look of confusion clears to a look of realization as he remembers why he had them in there.
"I forgot to take my bag in when I showered and put them in my pockets."
"They don't get washed if you leave them in your pockets to go through the washer and the dryer crumpled up into balls! I raised you better than that!"
"Aw, hush!" I'll teach him yet!