Tissue in the Wash!

For a while I thought there was nothing quite so annoying as washing a sieve.  I hate washing the sieve.  Everything sticks to it and no matter how hard you scrub at it there's always something lurking that won't quite come out.  You wash out the rice, only for even more to miraculously appear.  I hate washing the sieve.  But I've now decided there is something more annoying than washing the sieve.  The dreaded tissue in the wash.  I wearily hang my head and slump my shoulders just thinking about the tissue in the wash.  God damned tissue in the wash!  It's been happening so regularly of late that I've started to think the tissues are out to get me.  Leaping into the washing machine at the last minute just to cause havoc.  Sneaking into a pocket simply so they can explode amongst the suds.  Evil.  It's pure tissue evil.  And I don't even realise there's anything amiss until I go to hang the washing on the line and realise that everything is covered in a tiny film of white tissue dust.  Anything black and you can just forget about it.  They don't stand a chance against the power of the tissue in the wash.  And it's reign of terror doesn't stop there.  Oh no.  How does one deal with the results of a tissue in the wash.  I have no idea.  I naively thought that once the washing was dry I would simply be able to bash the tissue residue off.  No such luck.  That tissue dust is coming off when it wants to and not when you tell it to.  It will actually decide to come off just after you've done the hoovering.  It will litter the floor with it's white fury.  Even another wash doesn't seem to rid the clothes of the tissue beast.  No, I'm pretty sure that makes things worse because another tissue finds its way into the wash and then you've got a gang of tissues, doubling up and turning your world upside down!  I try picking the tissue residue off of our clothes but it makes for an impossible task.  Even the lint brush fails to make an impact.  I spent a good ten minutes yesterday desperately picking tissue off my tracksuit bottoms so that I could walk to work without people wondering why I was covered in dust.  I don't need that kind of attention.  I just don't!  Then the tissue dust was all over the carpet.  Then I start sneezing.  The make up starts running.  There's tissue dust in my hair!  It's bloody everywhere.  All of this because of one little tissue that found it's way into the washing machine.  The horror.  The horror!  In order to stop these tissue attacks I'm going to have to take preventative measures.  And I know that involves me sticking my hand into pockets.  But I hate doing it.  I can't tell you why but it really freaks me out.  But what can I do.  Someone has to stop the tissue madness.  And it seems I'm the one to do it.  But will I prevail?  I guess only time will tell.