Socks tear us apart

I love socks.  But I don’t know why they hate me.  I always treat them well, but still they run and hide from me and some never return.  I know I’m not the only one who has this problem.  Every time I do laundry, socks go missing.  And it’s never pairs of socks that go missing.  No, that would be too easy.  It’s always one sock of a pair.  And then I’m left with 15 socks, all of them odd.  Where did the rest of them go?  I don’t understand!

I’ve had this problem for years.  I guess lately I’ve been even more of a mess.  Yeah, I didn’t think it was possible to be even more unorganized than I previously had been.  I guess anything is possible.  I even bought new socks not too long ago.  Not sure what happened to them.  It’s always such a struggle to find pairs.  The worst is when I search and search, and finally find a pair, only to realize that one has a hole in it.  Why?

It’s gotten to the point where it’s affecting my home life.  I begin to accuse my mom and my sister of stealing my socks.  Or blame other people for moving the laundry basket.  And then I just get frustrated at everyone because it’s such a nuisance.  When I can’t find socks in the morning, everyone suffers.  The four words my mom hates hearing from me that I ask on most days are “Do you have socks?”.  And then she’ll tell me to look in the laundry or in the drawer or wherever and I’ll get mad and say that they’re not in there and that I already looked.  And then she’ll get mad at me for yelling at her and then nobody’s happy.  And I’m still without socks.

The other day I woke my sister up from what was apparently a nice dream, in order to ask her for socks.  Because they had just bought some, but I didn’t know where she had put them.  So what was I supposed to do?  It was a valid reason for waking her up, right?  In the spring and summer, I would just wear flats or flip flops, or whatever footwear would allow me to go sockless.  But in the middle of winter, that’s not an option.  It’s also annoying that I hate ankle socks.  But sometimes that’s all I can find.

I’m pretty sure there have been many mornings where I’ve missed my bus because I’ve had to waste time trying to find socks.  Lucky for me, my mom does help me find them, on the occasions where I ask nicely and refrain from yelling.  But little things like these are incredibly frustrating for me.  Especially things that don’t make any sense.  Where do the socks go?  They have to be somewhere.  They can’t just disappear.  After all these years I still have no leads and no theories on the matter.  Am I crazy?  Do I sleepwalk and retrieve odd socks and dispose of them without realizing?  What the hell is going on?  Someone give me an answer.

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5 thoughts on “Socks tear us apart

  1. Pingback: What shoes should I wear tomorrow? | Random and unnewsworthy

  2. Pingback: Confessions of a shoeaholic | Random and unnewsworthy

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