Laundry Mountain - In Search of the Summit

I HATE laundry.

Regardless of varied attempts utilizing a myriad
of time management techniques,
I'm incapable of accomplishing all of it anytime, ever.
I am officially announcing that I am domestically disabled
in this area. I am making peace with the big, fat FACT
that I have laundroheimers (I keep forgetting to do it?).
Nah, I don't forget. I am continually doing it.
Or would it laundrophobia? Am I scared of it? I dunno.
No, I attack it vigorously...repeatedly, daily.
This disability needs a new name? Ideas?

For a while I blamed it on my equipment which
is not what is picture below...THANKFULLY.
My Grandmothers had these
and baked bread to boot! Can you see me with my finger
and thumb in the shape of an "L" on my forehead?

Nope...Jeri wants these babies...
One upstairs...one downstairs...thank you very much.
Yep, yes...YESSIREE...the laundry would get done then, right?


No, probably not...not even then...
So, here I am spending Saturday
sitting in between loads...blogging...
ascending laundry mountain...AGAIN...
the domestic equivalent of Everest.

If you're one of those women whose laundry is
clean and folded and stacked in pretty, little,
color-coordinated piles...well...what's it look like up there?

I'm imagining this? Am I close?