One of my many, many quirks (obsessive toothbrushing, near psychotic aversion to drinking out of plastic or styrofoam, etc.) is the fact the I despise folding socks. I'll fold towels, sheets, sweaters, shirts...even underwear, but I hate folding socks. Fortunately, I am married to a very sweet man. The Saint doesn't mind folding socks, so he almost always does it. Whenever he comes across an unmatched sock, I tell him to toss it in the basket because surely the other one will show up eventually.
Anyway, over the last two days I have managed the near impossible task of getting all of the laundry in the house done. This evening, because my sweet husband built a wonderful, cozy fire for us, I folded all of the laundry including....The Socks! But then (cue the Twilight Zone music) I came across the basket of unmatched socks. An entire basket full of unmatched socks!
Oh! My! Goodness! How do we have so many unmatched socks? We have 59 unmatched socks (yes, I counted them 'cause I am just that kind of girl) pining away, missing their mates, in this basket.
Some of these socks are too small for my kids. I found one of my grandfather's special socks for diabetics. He lives in Texas now and I haven't done his laundry in at least a year. Some of these socks I don't recognize and have no clue how they got into my laundry. Maybe little Sock Goblins live in the washer and steal my socks and return other people's socks in their place.
Anyway, just thought you should know...I live in the Kingdom of Unmatched Socks. And I am The Queen!