Not too long ago, I realized it isn’t necessary to separate whites and colors, especially if you don’t have any red clothes. I don’t have red clothes, so instead of carefully separating the socks from the t-shirts like some obsessive-compulsive wretch, I just throw in a load of clothes and get on with my day.

There are exceptions. I got barbecue sauce on a white collar once, and my urine-soaked white slacks needed to be washed with bleach in hot water. So that’s all fine and good.

The really odd thing is that every now and again, I pull a bunch of clothes out of the dryer that I don’t recognize.