No matter what else is going on in my life, it's time for the annual ritual. The pile of unmatched socks is about to meet the trash can.
The hub wears brown or black or grey when he suits up. Considering that he has been suiting up less these days, it is a curiosity that the pile is about as big as usual. We have brown with gold toes; brown with smaller gold toes; brown with solid toes; brown cotton; brown fuzzy. And similar varieties in black and gray.
I have never figured out where the odd socks go; they do NOT go into the vent; they do NOT go behind the dryer. We no longer have a sock chompin' golden retriever. But there's the pile. Whenever I cannot match socks, the odd guy moves optimistically to the top of the dryer. There it remains unless and until its mate comes through. But today, when I finish the wash, all those oddballs will be gone.
I did not mention the white socks. Yes, of course, there are the random whites. Many whites. Thick rim, no rim, stripped toe, pink toe, yellow toe. Way back when we had two teens in sports and whites, it seemed like I was always sorting socks. Sometimes, I'd drift off with thoughts of, "For THIS I got a Master's Degree in English?"
Once, in frustration, I asked our neighbor, the mother of four sportos (one current pro baseball player!) for her tips on keeping her sanity amid even MORE white socks. She told me that she purchased 10 dozen of the SAME KIND so she never had to sort socks.
Brilliant, I'd say.
I know that I contribute to this mess by resupplying the sock drawer when it gets low.And 'they' keep changing the styles so the new ones never match the old ones. And so the cycle keeps going.
Tell me, then, why I NEVER lose my socks. Never. That florescent orange and pink striped knee sock matches up perfectly with its mate. Same with the black argyles. And the Red and Blue, Kokomo Spirit stockings. It may be that I wear fewer pairs; I don't know. I have no odd socks on top of the dryers. In about a hour from now, neither will anybody else.
The hub wears brown or black or grey when he suits up. Considering that he has been suiting up less these days, it is a curiosity that the pile is about as big as usual. We have brown with gold toes; brown with smaller gold toes; brown with solid toes; brown cotton; brown fuzzy. And similar varieties in black and gray.
I have never figured out where the odd socks go; they do NOT go into the vent; they do NOT go behind the dryer. We no longer have a sock chompin' golden retriever. But there's the pile. Whenever I cannot match socks, the odd guy moves optimistically to the top of the dryer. There it remains unless and until its mate comes through. But today, when I finish the wash, all those oddballs will be gone.
I did not mention the white socks. Yes, of course, there are the random whites. Many whites. Thick rim, no rim, stripped toe, pink toe, yellow toe. Way back when we had two teens in sports and whites, it seemed like I was always sorting socks. Sometimes, I'd drift off with thoughts of, "For THIS I got a Master's Degree in English?"
Once, in frustration, I asked our neighbor, the mother of four sportos (one current pro baseball player!) for her tips on keeping her sanity amid even MORE white socks. She told me that she purchased 10 dozen of the SAME KIND so she never had to sort socks.
Brilliant, I'd say.
I know that I contribute to this mess by resupplying the sock drawer when it gets low.And 'they' keep changing the styles so the new ones never match the old ones. And so the cycle keeps going.
Tell me, then, why I NEVER lose my socks. Never. That florescent orange and pink striped knee sock matches up perfectly with its mate. Same with the black argyles. And the Red and Blue, Kokomo Spirit stockings. It may be that I wear fewer pairs; I don't know. I have no odd socks on top of the dryers. In about a hour from now, neither will anybody else. 
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