I didn't do any weeding where I was planted in March, but tonight we return to semi-regular search-and-destroy missions in the everlasting war on entropy. (And you thought these posts were just me complaining about my messy family.) This week's topic: socks.
At the very beginning of my life as a Midwesterner I attempted to deal with the sock problem by not wearing socks. This was a bad strategy for a person living within spitting distance of Lake Michigan, and although I am sometimes tempted to adopt it as a family policy (maybe the children would grow hairy hobbit-like protective ankle coverings if I sent them out sockless in January? a person can always hope), I have not yet succumbed to that temptation.
It was blog commenters who spurred me to streamline my old system, in which I accepted whatever kid-sized socks my MIL found on sale. These days my boys' sock drawers contain Hanes socks (red for the oldest, blue for the middles, red (but obviously different) for the smallest) and handknit socks, and perhaps a pair or two of black dress socks. For about seven years now, any interloper socks have been immediately dispatched to the Goodwill shelf in the basement. We had an unfortunate infiltration of off-brand socks at Christmas, when my MIL must have been really stumped about what to give one of the boys, but I'm working on containment.
Even under the new system, sorting socks always leaves leftovers. I do laundry for six people, and the socks never, but never, come out even. Laundry gets folded in the living room these days, an approach that has dealt a mortal blow to my lfelong habit of putting off the folding until the resulting cordillera of laundry began to sap my will to live. This means, though, that I don't have a good place to stash socks awaiting mates.
I suppose part of the problem is that we have some lurking socks that don't belong. I still feel some guilt about purging intact socks, but OH WELL. Part of the problem is also that Stella doesn't want the leftover socks to be lonely. If they are accessible (in a basket tucked into a corner, say), she will liberate them. Socks strewn across the floor are much uglier than socks waiting quietly in a basket in the corner. For now, hidden (from Stella) but accessible (to me) storage for a few stray socks is what I need. Any ideas? Any WWYPing happening at your house this week?
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