You’re wearing your last pair of underwear in the shower consistently.

You’ve worn your sheets to school because you can’t get them off of you.

Your socks act like a shirt does when its heavily starched and emit a serious funk.

Your roommate walks around wearing a full body medical suit like they did in the movie “Outbreak” to avoid catching the Ebola virus.

The Snuggle Bear on the softener bottle officially died last week.

The DEA’s drug sniffing dog is always coming by to sniff your laundry because the strong stench makes him think you have 28 tons of pot in your closet.

Even after sewing 28 spring scented dryer sheets to the inside of your shirt, your friends still say you reek.

The phrase “Wash Me” is visibly written in your jeans.

Your red T-shirt is now green.

The boss pulls you aside to remind you that your company’s casual days does not include your college graduation gown and scuba diving fins.