As The Boy works away Monday to Thursday, sometime to Friday, I don't want to spend the little time we have together doing household chores and therefore I voluntarily, and willingly I might add, take care of washing.
This means that I tend to spend my Wednesday nights folding socks and ironing shirts. And here is my question - why is it, that men have so many socks?
And why must all these socks look exactly the same?
And for the love of all that is good and holy do I now have a box of socks labelled "The Boy's Odd Socks" for all the individual socks that don't seem to match any others. In fact, the box has also accumulated some socks that don't belong to either of us.
I fear that these questions are destined to remain unanswered for eternity, and the box of odd socks will continue to grow.
Sock puppet anyone?
And why must all these socks look exactly the same?
And for the love of all that is good and holy do I now have a box of socks labelled "The Boy's Odd Socks" for all the individual socks that don't seem to match any others. In fact, the box has also accumulated some socks that don't belong to either of us.
I fear that these questions are destined to remain unanswered for eternity, and the box of odd socks will continue to grow.
Sock puppet anyone?
My Great Aunt used to give all the odd socks to the one legged man in her town. True Story.
ReplyDeleteShe was a bit crazy but sounds like a good sort of crazy
I like that story Anonymous! What a wonderful idea!
ReplyDelete