Each season has its own personality, its own identity, its own character. Fall is inexorably marked by the colors of the leaves, the aroma of burning logs in backyards and fireplaces, the promise of family gatherings, and the growing piles of laundry that threaten to lay ruin to your detergent budget.

It’s almost cruel that a single autumnal wash load comes close to equally all of summer’s dirty clothes. Think about it. Summer’s wardrobe is all the same fabric, all the same color, and in smaller pieces. Whites, pastels, t-shirts, shorts. If it wasn’t for sheets and towels I could probably go through an entire summer month on a single large load.

But fall, fall starts out ok. You trade in the shorts for khaki slacks, t-shirts for golf shirts, and you add socks to the mix. But in a couple of weeks you’re in to long sleeve shirts, polos, and jeans. Another week goes by and now you start layering. In one day between undershirt, shirt, sweatshirt, and hoodie you’ve worn – and dirtied – what would take almost a full week just 3 months ago. And all the different fabrics and colors. Everyone has to be checked for what can be washed with what at what temperatures in which cycles. It’s enough to make you breathe a sigh of relief when you find a care tag suggesting not to be machine washed.

And it’s not just the volume of laundry that torments your sanity. It’s the additional danger the fall wardrobe poses to your health and safety. Long sleeves and trouser legs get wrapped around the agitator causing you to wrench your back or possibly dislocate your shoulder trying to extract them from the machine. (And you wonder why they named that part an agitator!) Socks that are optional equipment in the summertime become entangled in other laundry pieces from the time you toss them into the hamper until you’re returning to the dresser. The only thing lost more regularly in laundry rooms is your temper when you realize you missed the beginning of the rinse cycle and your last opportunity to add fabric softener to the mix (an essential component to minimizing the chafing you’ll certainly encounter when untreated broadcloth rubs across the back of your neck).

But I digress. I was talking about the visions of fall and breathing in the sweet smell of burning logs while walking along the lane wrapped up in a warm, snuggly sweater. I hope it’s Dry Clean Only.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?