Boober sighed softly as he stared at the towering pile of laundry in front of him. While carefully separating the colors from the whites, his little laundry basket was nearly overflowing; the damp air of Fraggle Rock not helping matters at all. With a reluctant shrug, Boober started loading the first batch into the washing machine, muttering about the inevitability of stains and the horrors of mold. He then shakes his head

"I need a new lucky walking stick...."