Have You Seen My Husband's Socks?

The last day and a half I have been going to town on the laundry. I have 3 good sized hampers, 4 people to wash for, 2 of them babies, and none of us lack for clothes. So when laundry day (whenever I get a chance) comes around, you can imagine that it takes a significant amount of time to get it all washed, dried, folded and put away. Particularly sleepers, and the ever elusive socks.

Sometimes if I've been slacking off a bit my husband will casually remark, "By the way, I have no more dark socks," or, "Oh yeah, I'm on my last pair of underwear." This is my cue to get my butt in gear and start the cycle again (no pun intended). It has become apparent in the 3 1/2 years we've been married, however, that I am not the mistress of all things domestic that his mother was (and is). For instance, it has become a running... joke? or point of contention... that every time I do laundry my husband has more odd socks. Those lonely souls with no match, they sit in a corner of his sock drawer, vainly waiting for the day that a like sock will show up and sweep them off their feet. Or onto their feet, depending on how you look at it.

And so those forlorn socks have been waiting for weeks, sometimes months, and the pile of odd socks continues to grow. So I have decided it's time to take more drastic measures. I've searched high and low, double checked the washer and dryer for stowaways, moved the furniture, but now I'm sending out an all points bulletin:

Socks desperately seeking mates. If you're a lonely sock and you think we might have your match, please, leave me a message.

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