In recent months I have developed a strange love of hand-wash only clothing. This is unfortunate. Each week I have to make a decision between hanging several items back up in my closet after wearing them, or actually taking the time to hand wash them.
Needless to say, a clumsy swig of a vodka tonic is the closest that many of my clothes have come to actually being washed.
The way I see it, these clothes, usually shirts, are only worn for four-five hours at a time. That's not legitimate cause to wash them.
Today I finally caved. I filled may bath tub with warm water and some laundry detergent, and dumped a third of my wardrobe into the tub.
I'm feeling very June Cleaver-ey now.