Thursday, September 2, 2010

socks

One day, not too terribly long ago I threw the last of the hubs' dirty white socks into the color coordinated white basket (white for whites, light green -my personal favorite- for colors, and dark blue for darks) full of dirty clothes, picked it up and started the march down stairs. It wasn't a long march and soon I arrived to our lovely little laundry room. I did Not get out the laundry card with money on it because at my house, I don't have to use a money card for laundry. Wonderful! Instead I threw the clothes in the washing machine right away, added the detergent and pushed start. Glorious. Then I promptly walked out of the room and did something else equally important I am sure.

After a few more trips and changes of laundry, I plopped down on the couch and surrounded myself with three baskets overflowing with fresh clean smelling laundry. The piles slowly grew taller and taller until all I had left to fold was a heap of socks. joy. My favorite. But not really. ...Well, unless they are all my socks, in which case I love to and take the greatest enjoyment in carefully matching up and folding my wonderfully colorful socks. You see, it is by no means, a hard task, as all of my socks are different in both color and design. I have striped socks, heart socks, socks with bugs on them, argyle socks, knee high socks, plain boring old black socks, socks with flowers on them, glow in the dark socks, polka-dot socks, checkered socks, plaid socks, argyle heart socks, snowflake socks, cool Norwegian socks, fuzzy socks, toe socks... the list goes on. No one sock is the same as another pair (which obviously makes for an easy matching and folding time).

...with the exception of my tennis shoe socks that the hubs pressured me into buying after suffering from a severe laugh attack. You see, the hubs saw me wearing my reindeer and Christmas tree socks with my tennis shoes and thought it was the most hi-larious thing ever. It really wasn't. really. However, this only went to reinforce his point of just how athletic I am. being not in the slightest. Naturally to prove him wrong (that I was at least a little bit athletic) I went and got the first pack of sporty socks I could find, unfortunately none of them had a design that was remotely sporty. No baseballs, basketballs, volleyballs, soccer balls, tennis balls ... no balls of any kind. Not even a baseball mitt (glove) or a basketball hoop (goal) was on them. They were all white, white white. Dreadfully white. Thankfully, some had a little bit of pink at the toes and heel, they also had a tiny word printed in pink on the bottom of the toes. Quite obviously, since they had the most character of any of the "sporty" socks I had seen, I snatched them up right away. And since they were all white with pink toes - they were all exactly the same, they take no time to find a match to and fold. I don't have to see which white sock has writing on the bottom and which one doesn't or which one is a little bit bigger than the other one that looks just like it but is really a little bit different.

That's how the hubs' socks are. They are nearly all white and all just a smidgen different from the rest. One will have a black toe and one will not, one will have a black toe and writing on the bottom of the sock and look so close to the one with a black toe that has no writing on the bottom. So I get all excited about finding a match only to discover it wasn't a match... it was a big fat trick. Also, they are all inside out. So not only do I have to sit and individually cross examine each and every sock, I also have to turn them right side out. Good Grief. By the time all of the socks are turned the right side out I have them laying across my living room floor or bed, much resembling a game of memory. I see two plain white ones and pick them up for a match... only to discover that they are not truly a match. shucks. One of the white socks has a little bit of red stitching that can only be seen from up close. The other sock is plain white - no red stitching. I put them back down and start the search all over again. After about nine hours of matching up the hubs' "white" socks, I am done.

What truly amazes me is that when I ask the hubs to help me fold the laundry and I toss him all of his white socks to fold, it only takes him five minutes to do it. Now, I don't know if that's because he just folds any old two together or if he has some special white sock matching up power he's not telling me about. seriously...

So anyway. That's why at the end of my laundry folding endeavor I always have a pile of the hubs white socks to match and fold up.

Well, it just so happened that on this day as I was folding laundry the hubs had some work socks thrown in the mix as well. These ones I don't mind too much, they aren't so tricky to match up because some are tan or light brown or black with stripes. Easy to match up. Happily I went about matching and folding. Then, when I got to the last sock, the last black with little white stripes on them socks, there was only One! I looked in all of the clothes, I unfolded the neatly folded sheets I had just folded and picked at all of the little corners looking for the nice black stripped sock. I then refolded the sheets after there was no sock lurking in their corners. I looked in the washing machine, and even in the little plastic bit that sometimes holds things hostage. I looked in the dryer. I looked behind and in between and below and on the side of the washing machine and dryer. I looked in the laundry baskets and under the laundry baskets. I looked under all of the pretty piles of folded clothes. I looked between the sofa cushions. I looked under the couches. I even checked upstairs where we normally keep the baskets, thinking it might have fallen out. It was not there. It was no where.

Sadly, I placed the lone black and white stripped sock on top of the hubs' dresser and went about my business. There must, of course, be a grieving time for the lost sock. I couldn't just throw the pretty sock out. I concluded one thing: The Dryer Ate the Sock.

You might think that sounds a little crazy. But I'm not. I've had dryers eat my socks before. In fact, one dryer ate my very favorite pair of socks ever. There were new socks. I didn't have many socks either. You see, I had been living in some very hot and tropical environment on the other side of the world and when I came back for school in Chicago area... well, lets just say, my little straw flip flops simply would not do.

Thankfully I have a wonderful sister (well, two really, but for the purposes of this story, one). She is really amazing. Really. I was all lonely and lonesome at a school I truly loathed and so for Fall Break she drove seven odd hours to come get me at school, to only visit there a few minutes, turn around and drive another seven hours back to her home. She even left her adorable baby boy at home so she could come get me. Then she was going to drive me back to the horrible school after Fall Break was over a few days later. What a sister. What a friend. It is true. So. Not only had she helped me that summer prepare for the freezing winter that was to come, she helped me when I was visiting her up in Beautiful Lake country. She took me shopping. O, it was so much fun! I had no warm clothes, and so we spent the day (well, all of the days of my break really : ) shopping for great steals of deals for sweaters and coats, and shoes and socks (I didn't own a pair of socks until this trip) to keep me warm for the winter. We went to the Biggest Mall Ever! Wow!!! So wonderful. Anyways. On this trip I fell in love with a pair of socks. I know, it probably sounds really really silly, in love with a pair of socks. Who does that? ... me ... But it's true. I did. I remember quite clearly all these years later. They were white. With adorable little tan and light brown lions on them. Oh, how I loved my little lion socks. They were simply perfect. My sister even got the same pair, we had matching socks. I would draw a picture of the lion on the socks if I could put it on here, but I can't figure out how to do that, so I won't.

Anyways, a month or so later I was doing my laundry and when I was folding the nice and warm clothes, I could only find one of my lovely lion socks. I looked everywhere. Not only in and around the washer and dryer, but also in the whole laundry room (it was pretty big) and in the hallways I had walked with my laundry, and in the stairways... and in my room ... but alas. It was never found. I even made a sign. I drew a picture of the cute little lion and wrote: "Missing! One Lion Sock. If found please bring to room 329. Thank you!" with lots of smily faces and a few of the lions drawn on it. I posted it in the laundry room and in the hallways. I really loved that sock. But even the sign with the picture did no good. My lion sock was gone forever.

That is why I know that dryers sometimes have a little sock snack. And apparently our dryer was a little bit hungry for a little sock snack. It's a shame really, cause even though that wasn't my sock, it was one of my favorites of the hubs. I especially enjoyed folding it, and it looked pretty nice on his foot too. But now, now he will never be able to wear that snazzy sock again.

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