These are my colors Esse

Our family is having a laundry crisis. I remember having these types of catastrophes in my own childhood, when panic would strike me because my purple shirt that I wanted to wear with my new jeans was at the bottom of some dirty clothes pile. As an adult, the state of crisis has changed. Panic does not occur over shirts, there seems to be a plethora to choose from, but 2 mornings ago when my husband got in the shower, I hear this Suuuuussssssaaaaaannnnn sound similar to George of the Jungle calling for his Jane. Have you seen any of my clean underwear? He says with a naked smile. I turned and pointed to the overflowing dirty clothes basket, and said, define clean. Unable to take that risk, I grabbed a pair of bright red thick cotton boxers that say "It's gonna be one of those daze" on the crotch zone. It's the emergency, last ditch effort, and a HUGE signal that someone needs do get some laundry done around here!
The next morning, there was finally a clean load (still in the dryer) and as I walked out in a pre-coffee sleep haze, I see my husband with his green Fruit of the Looms hanging on the outside of his jammy pants. I look at him, he looks at me and says, "These are my colors Esse". I burst into a nonfat vanilla creamer filled laughter and said, "Yeah, that's how you roll!".
This, I realize, is why I'm still married. My Esse makes me giggle and even though I am still the one who got those colors clean, that's ok, maybe I'll get a ride in his low ride er.