January 9, 2005

• Is There a Ten Step Program...     I have heard said that admitting you have a problem is getting halfway to a cure. So, I am willing to be accountable to ya’ll for my problem.     *takes a deep breath*This isn't easy to admit...     I have had a basket of clean, unmatched socks sitting in my bedroom for SIX MONTHS.   *lets breath out*    Okay I feel a little better now.    Socks and I don’t get along. Oh, they are useful. They keep my feet toasty in this big ole farmhouse of mine. They are a necessity for comfort, to keep leather shoes from becoming odiferous in the wake of wearing them in bare feet, and to prevent nasty abrasions from shoes rubbing in the wrong places. When the socks are on my, or the rest of my family’s feet, they are fine.No issues. But..    ..the minute they are unmatched, out of the drawer, in the hamper…that’s where the trouble begins.    I can put 20 socks in the washer…and 20 come out. I put 20 socks in the dryer, and only 17 come out!    What I want to know is…    WHERE THE HECK DID THE OTHER THREE SOCKS GO?    And why are the three missing socks the three newest, nicest, most comfortable or most expensive ones? Is there a gremlin that lives under the washer and dryer that awakens as soon as the dryer is switched on, who comes out takes the three most appealing socks in the group?    My back has been killing me the last four days due to a pinched nerve in my neck. Many thanks to the drunk 16 year old that was driving a Chevy half-ton 15 years ago and rear ended my non-moving EXP at 55 miles per hour. But that is another story..    My house-hold industry has been limited because anything more strenuous than breathing has brought excruciating, stabbing pain through my neck, over my left shoulder and down my left arm. Imagine the pain from hitting the funny bone last four days straight. OK...now you are on the same page with me. I enlisted the aid of Brenna to bring down THE BASKET. I figured it was a perfect time to match the socks that I have been so strenuously ignoring for...er...months. Emptying the basket *or at least making an honest attempt to do so* would make me feel a bit better for not doing a whole lot the last several days.    Now, please don’t think the rest of my house is like the laundry basket of evil socks. It isn’t! I do dust, vacuum, sweep, scrub, air out, etc. weekly. My house isn't pristine, but it is livable friendly, visitor safe, and by no meals pristine. Anal I am not, but I do make a sincere effort to keep my home clean, friendly and inviting.   But those socks. Those darn socks. The basket has been touched only when there was dire need of a pair of socks by myself or Brenna *Mike's laundry is done separately so his socks for the most part escape the fate of ours, but yet...there are still times.....*   White socks. Red socks. Black socks. Blue socks. I am particularly fond of odd colored socks as their mates are easily spotted. That has been the socks that I, and Brenna, have been wearing while their cousins have been resting untouched in their Rubbermaid bed. Whichever socks were easily matched when the need arose DING DING DING... WE HAVE A WINNAHHH.    I am finishing up laundry in the next day or so *as my neck and shoulder allow*. I will do a sock reconnaissance sweep of the bedrooms, the drawers, under the beds, under the washer and dryer. After everything is washed and gathered, whatever is missing a mate is going into the rag bag for furniture polishing, grease wiping, and assisting in wood working projects. The orphan socks are heretofore banished from the basket! From sight until the need for a rag appears.    I don’t know how many usable, matched socks that will leave us.    I wonder who is having a good sale on socks this week…                                                                                                    Kathie

  • 11:52 pm
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