Between our three families, and families we know, somebody was always elbow-deep in a hamper. Soccer jerseys on Tuesday. Church clothes on Sunday. Pool towels, work attire, travel team uniforms, a mountain of sheets from a sleepover that got out of hand. Every single week.
At some point we started doing the math. It wasn't the washing that got us it was everything around it. The sorting. The switching. The folding while something beeped at you from the dryer. The putting-away. The hunt for the missing sock. We were each losing close to ten hours a month to laundry. Ten hours we could have spent coaching, watching, cheering, praying, running, traveling, eating with our families, or, occasionally, doing absolutely nothing at all.