A funny thing happens when you actually wash, dry, and fold all of your laundry. You run out of hangers.
Seriously. Well, there are a few of the throw-away kind that come with clothes (the few I haven't managed to break or toss).
And, there are kid-sized hangers left. Mostly because despite my best efforts to toss those crappy store kind (or leave them with the stores), they have established some sort of breeding program in my children's closets.
Oh, and my husband has 47 sweaters. I counted.