What does this say about me...and do I want to know?

It never fails. Every morning when Vanessa wakes up and demands I come to get her right that instant and not a second longer I am always in the middle of the "best dream ever". It is not always the same dream, but it is always a good one. The kind of dream that even when you wake up you want to stay in bed with your eyes closed and think about it. A couple of days ago I was dreaming that Larry and I were living in New Orleans. We were sitting on our French Quarter balcony and I could just smell the flowers and feel the humidity and taste the morning Mimosa and hear the trumpet player below us. Yes, Larry looked suspiciously like Brad Pitt from Legends of the Fall and I more than resembled Idina Menzel, but it was still us and we were living our dream. All of a sudden, breaking into the beautiful trumpeting, I heard, "HIIIIII! HIIIIII! MAAAAMAAAA! HIIIIII!" And I had to drag myself out of bed and go and save my darling daughter from the confines of her crib.
This morning was no different. Vanessa woke me from my dream and I hauled my ever expanding butt out of bed and all of a sudden it hit me. This morning I wasn't dreaming about New Orleans, or Larry, or champagne and orange juice. I was dreaming about laundry. Yep, laundry. But it was the best laundry experience ever!
You see, I hate laundry. No, strike that. I despise laundry. I'm not sure why. It's not like it's that hard to throw some clothes into the machine, pour in some soap and press start. But I always put it off and it gets WAY out of hand and I end up having to sort through a mountain of dirty clothes to find things to wash that actually match. If I don't find outfits before I do the wash I end up with purple pants and a green shirt, or something equally as hideous. But in this dream I would pick up a shirt and there were the shorts to go with it. I found Natalie's bikini bottoms and right there was not only the top, but also the matching skirt. It was laundry nirvana. Every thing had a mate. There was no searching through spaghetti stained wash clothes or still damp bath towels. It was so easy!
I have a few ideas about what this dream might have meant, but I'm pretty sure it is just my brain telling me to quit being such and idiot and get more organized. I mean seriously. If I could just keep up with the laundry and always have things that matched it would save me so much time and aggravation (not to mention the complaining and cussing that inevitably comes out every time I go downstairs to the laundry room). But still, it is pretty sad to be so happy in a dream about household chores isn't it?