Nothing much

I spend much of my life sorting and folding clean laundry. There are only 3 of us, how can there be so many clothes? On the front end, I have established a new system. I used to have a 3-bin sorter thing I got at Target in my laundry cupboard, only when our old AEG died and we bought a new machine, which resembles a large shiney space station, I could no longer actually get at the clothes waiting to be laundered. Now I have two mesh hampers in our hallway. They are portable, so when one is full, off it goes for its contents to be soaked, spun, and fluffed. They are also colour coded: one for darks and one for lights. I will train the male people in our unit to learn how to use this system. Otherwise, in spite of my adamant feminism, they will not get near my lovely new machine, nor are they allowed to fold. It seems like a safe enough outlet for whatever psychological malfunction this obsession of mine could be categorized under. And before you smirk, know that I am not alone.