I could have titled this so many things:
Why I love to hate socks….
Tales of the Frustrated Laundress…
The Housewife’s Nemesis..
Fuel for the Fire
Socks Suck and Other Obvious Things
and it could fit in many categories; rants, random thoughts, life lessons, bipolar,
You can take it as one of my cracked observations or a bit of unsolicited advice…
It all works.
Socks have to be one of the most frustrating, yet sensible things ever invented. They keep our feet warm and protected. And if you have ever tried to wear say, a pair of boots or sneakers, without socks, you know that they are better had than not.
My hate affair with socks began when I was in Jr. High. This is my first vivid sock memory. Before that, I can honestly say, I have no real idea how I felt about them. Some of you may recall I mentioned an argument with my mother in a previous dissertation, the name of which I do not recall. It was, I believe tucked away in 7 things I had to tell you about myself. Or 15. But the point of the point of the socks and the argument was that it, they, we, ok me, caused the loss of the home team High School football team in an apparently important game. I am still not really clear on the connection but my brother is very good at making it sound like it’s right so I just add it to my many achievements.
In a nutshell, it was cold, we were going to the football game, the type of shoes I had did NOT in any way come close to being able to pull off the – hey those look kinda cool like that – with socks. I really didn’t like the shoes to tell you the truth. In fact, it is probably safe to say that shoes suck worse than socks,. I am a barefoot girl all the way, but that’s another story for another day.
My mother insisted I put on socks and I, in my 15ish year old wisdom, insisted I wouldn’t. That was probably the worst and most traumatic fight my mother and I ever had. It’s telling and retelling has lasted these long 27 years and socks have become the symbol of my rebelliousness without clue for the same 27 years.
But here’s the real poop on how I feel about socks. They drive me nuts. Quite batty.
Everybody knows of the washer eating the socks – or dryer, whichever theory you subscribe to. Or one of the socks as it were, so that when you put a pair in the laundry, what comes out of the laundry is a single sock. I mean what the heck is that about? Sometime I think that there is a special trap door built into washing machines (for I am a subscriber to the washing machine theory myself) that collects the socks and that this door was put there, in the design by some prankster who had no idea of the ….angst it would cause for years and years to come.
When you are single and doing your own laundry this is often frustrating enough. But if you hold onto the lone sock, eventually either the washing machine will spit out its mate at a later date, or you will maybe lose it and forget all about it. Then when the mate does get spit out, you are just left scratching your head.
I put the singles in a pile to wait for the imminent purge by the washing machine. That’s all good for me. But do you have any idea at all just how many socks a household of 6, 7 and 8 constitutes? A lot.
So I take the pile of single socks, in all different sizes and colors, and put them in a laundry basket thinking when the mate pops up I will remember where the other is…. It never happens like this. Never. And more often than not, we end up buying new socks because there are no more matching pairs. A 6 pack at WalMart is a mere $8 dollars or so and its a lot easier than going on the hunt.
My real downfall is that once a basket is full of mateless socks, I stash it somewhere and start a new basket. And never do I want to get rid of a perfectly decent sock, because it has a match. Somewhere.
Last year after digging out some 5, or was it six bags, boxes and baskets of unmatched socks, we had a matching party and were left with only 100 or so socks with no mate. A mere sampling of the starting pile. I vowed never to get behind on matching socks, I vowed to stop stashing them. I vowed to start chucking them if they were unmatched for more than a week.
I vowed… ha, ha. ha., but socks are insidious. And that my friends is the REAL reason I hate socks. As a singular, for their intended purpose, I love socks. In the winter my toes are always cold and socks, are the answer. I like fuzzy socks, colorful socks, Any kind of sock that keeps my toes toasty, as long as it has a mate.,
My best unsolicited advice? If they don’t have a mate – chuck them. Short of keeping them on our feet constantly, which poses a whole other set of problems, we have no hope of ever figuring out the washer or dryer theory of sock snatching and are doomed to be overrun by mismatched and single socks.
Somebody could make a fortune coming up with an answer to the sock problem, and some of you, while surely aware of said problem, had no idea how out of hand this problem is…but I tell you, left to the workings of my disorganized mind, socks will indeed take over the world.
One sock at a time.
Lizzie Cracked (not broken) telling you the true poop about socks.. because I am missing my favorite fuzzy one – again… ~sigh~
- Mini Cashmere Socks (majorknitter.typepad.com)
- Shamrock Socks (neatorama.com)
- SmartWool Socks (willtravelforwork.com)
- O Basics: Best Socks Ever! (allthingsjennifer.wordpress.com)
- The Superman Caped Socks are the weirdest one ever! (thezigzagger.com)