Wednesday, October 28, 2009

I have a confession

The first step is admitting you have a problem, and that you are powerless over it. Okay, I am probably not powerless over it, but it is a problem.

I hate to fold laundry. Specifically underwear and socks. HATE.IT. If you were to open either my underwear or sock drawer right now, you would see a writhing pile of clothes. Socks in knots. Panties doing unspeakable things with bras. There it is, my deep, dark secret.

As it is now cold outside, which necessitates wearing closed toed shoes, which usually necessitates wearing socks, I have had to face the writhing knot of socks for the first time in months. I wear athletic socks throughout the year when working out and wearing my sneakers, but those socks live in a different drawer, where I can keep the whites separate from the darks and allows me some relief in my sock search, but that is as far as my organizational efforts extend.

Oh I have tried over the years to get a handle on this. I have sat down with the pile of socks and organized them, paired them up and put them back in some sort of order. That lasts about 3 days. Pretty much until the laundry is done and there are new citizens of the Land of Sock to put away and I just cannot bring myself to pair up and fold them inside of each other because as I mentioned before - I.HATE.IT. So the new citizens are bunched up and dropped in willy nilly on top of the semi-organized currently residing citizens.

I don't really know where the root of this loathing comes from, but it is there. The problem that it presents to me is that over the years I have, in my quest to find the perfect black sock, one that is not too thick, not too thin, has just enough spandex in it to stay up without strangling my leg and cutting off the circulation to the top quarter inch of my epidermis, I have accumulated quite a few black socks. This morning as I pulled sock after sock from the knot, I counted 7 completely different black sock options. And as I pulled the eighth sock out I finally found a companion to one of them, so that is the pair I am wearing right now.

What I need to do is find that perfect black sock, buy about 12 pairs, and dispose of all pretenders to the throne. Then when I reach in to the abyss, I will be guaranteed whichever two socks I produce, they will always match.

That thought right there is the reason I own at minimum 7 different pairs of black socks. My holy grail is still out there. In the meantime, I will either have to live with the situation as it is losing 15 minutes in my morning to the Sock Match Game, or face my problem, turn it over to a higher power and conquer my inner demon. Wonder if I can get Bob to fold my socks...


Anonymous said...

Do what I do - find any two socks that are compatible in fabric eight only (for comfort and sensory sake) and disregard colour, pattern, etc. Wear those two. Don't take off shoes.

Dproudmama said...

Erin does the mis-match thing and it is so clever. Unless you put your feet up on the desk with your socks exposed - who will know the difference? I spawned two kids that hate folding laundry!! How could that be?

Audubon Ron said...

My dear. Say three Hail Marys and seven Our Fathers and a priest will be at your house in the morning. Then we need to start a regimen of therapy once the demons are gone about experiences you had as a child that blocks your ability to fold clothing. I would also guess, this means there are more issues to address. I’m guessing emptying the dishwasher is actually not a problem for you. Admit your sins girl! If so, you have deeper issues to include parking your car between the lines and a propensity to accept shopping carts with wayward wheels. I can’t say there are any deep rooted psycho-dysfunction issues as this is quite regular. But, it is the only way for you to come clean. Oh and by the way, do you match your laundry detergent with your fabric softener for smell? I do. That might seem problematic but ask around, it is very normal. Well, my normal anyway.

MidLifeMama said...

I am fairly sure my boss would question my administrative capability if I showed up with mismatched socks.

Mom, I suspect it is our effort at consciously or unconsciously rejecting other forms of control in our lives.

AR: I am very good at both filling and emptying the dishwasher, am a perfectly fine parker of cars, particularly parallel, refuse to accept a grocery cart with a wayward wheel and we do not match our dryer sheet smell with our detergent. It never even occured to me to do that. Most of the time I try to find one of them with NO smell if possible. Maybe that is my form of balancing things out.

dubiousMa said...

Okay, first of all, I love that you had enough material to make a whole post about socks. Now, I never fold socks, underwear, bras....I just don't see the logic in it. I only wear black socks and white socks and all black socks are the same and whites are virtually the same. I have enough going on in my life without socks presenting problems.

6512 and growing said...

Socks! Who would have known parenting would include such sock aggravation. We have a sock basket for our kids' socks, it's either spilling over or there are 3 mis-matched socks in there. Even spilling over, none match ever. My son's friend started purposely wearing mix-matched socks because he wanted to be cool like his friend Col (my son). As for myself, I just wear the same pair all week. Eliminates many problems.