Bleach

I finally broke down and did laundry the other day. I couldn't remember the last time I had done it, but clothes I had worn on Hallowe'en were tossed into the load.

People always say, "How can you live like that?"

To which I innocently reply, "Like what?"

Laundry is an obsession. An addiction. Most people simply have no self control. It's an epidemic, really.

Pants are a prime example. Why the hell would you wash a pair of pants? They're pants! Pants should not be washed until: they begin to smell like sour milk; they make your legs break out.

Shirts? Unless you are running marathons or doing manual labor (in which case you have other problems), a shirt should be good for several days at least.

Socks? Well, socks can get rank rather quickly. But that's OK, because they're socks and they don't cost much or occupy a lot of space. Buy yourself a few bags o' socks.

It's all about proportion, really. You need more socks than shirts, more shirts than pants. Scale your wardrobe accordingly and you'll find you can decrease your wasteful laundry habits to three or four times a year, just like me.