ME: Hey, did I tell you I solved my laundry problem?
HER: How so?
ME: I had to admit to myself that I’d never be able to keep up with the elaborate systems I previously had in mind. Now, it’s just clean or dirty, with no gray area.
HER: Interesting.
ME: Anything clean gets hung up in the closet. Anything dirty goes down the hole [a trap door in my closet floor that leads to the basement].
HER: Wait, wait. So what if you wear a shirt, but think you might wear it again without washing it?
ME: It goes back in the closet. It’s still clean.
HER: But what if you wear something to the bar…
ME: Down the hole.
HER: But what if you’re going to the bar again, and you don’t want to get your other clothes smoky?
ME: Down the hole. There’s no room for argument. If it’s clean, it’s clean. If it’s dirty in any way, I cram it down the hole. All bar clothes go down the hole without hesitation.
HER: Hmm.
ME: The thing is, I’ve reached a point in my life where I’m not going to efficiently sort my clothes by stages of dirtiness. I have no tolerance for dinginess in my life, and I’m tired of being surrounded by it. From now on, if something is less than immaculate, I cram it down the hole and that’s that.
HER: Sounds good.
ME: I’m not just talking about laundry.