You could call it laziness, but I think it's really a physics problem. See, I have this hamper that holds a significant amount more than my laundry basket. So when the urge to play washer woman strikes I typically skim off the top of the hamper with full intentions of going back up for the rest later. Later, however, usually never happens.

Today, I decided to bite the bullet and brave the depths of my hamper. Guess what I found? Two of Peanut's shirts and pair of his shorts. People -- Peanut left over four months ago. Can you say gross? Say it a little louder... I can't hear you.

After taking a few moments to wallow in my own disgusting habits I was actually kind of glad I found something of his unexpectedly. It brings him back to home somehow. Right after he left I found all sorts of "Peanut bombs" planted around the house. A sticker on the fridge, drawings he did when he was supposed to be sleeping, little pieces of K'Nex (the world's worst toy ever), all sorts of detritus that an 8-year-old leaves in his wake. At first, Peanut bombs just sent me into tears. But eventually they were a lot of fun to find. After a month or so, I had pretty much uncovered everything and missed finding his things.

So, though I doubt my mother would agree, I think uncovering an unexpected reminder of Peanut justifies my nasty laundry habits. How's that Don Henley song go? "Give us dirty laundry!"