Well, kinda' hard to 'splain, in a way, but, I'll try my darndest....
Wife comes home, I had clothes "warshin' " in the warshin' machine, she don't pay it no mind, go on with her yakkity-yakkin' nonsense 'bout this and that, all of which don't interest me to begin with, mind ya'.
We go on and have supper, nice roast and 'taters, carrots, celery, gravy.......you know, the normal stuff that goes with a meal.
Everything just fine and dandy, she does all the dirty dishes and puts'em away, I'm settin' back relaxin' kinda' sorta', enjoyin' a nice 4-finger Kentucky Bourban with water....an all of a sudden-like I hear her doin' that womenfolk gripin' and a complainin'.
I turn 'round, and thar she be, draggin' all the clean warshed clothes outta' the tub-thing and just a complainn' away 'bout how one ain't supposed to mix white clothes with colored clothes, an how shes gotta' do'em all over again.
I told her, "Dear, them thar clothes don't know no different that they are not supposed to be mixed in like that, nobody told them, an they been bein' just fine and dandy bein' warshed like that till you went on a screemin'-meemie about it".
Now, I'm kinda' worried my socks will have developmental problems, and might get mixed-up with my skivvies, or somethin' like that....