Life in San Francisco

January 12, 2010

All the lonely socks. Where do they all come from?

This picture is the pile of the kids colored socks that don't have a match. This is only one of four groups of socks. The other 3 are whites for the kids, socks for Gary and socks for me.

Everytime I do laundry, I end up finding a lonely solo sock or two that matches one I washed, and another few socks join the ever growing mountain of mismatched socks. If I ever get to the end of 'Mount Washmore' will I be able to throw away the ones that are left? Do I have some sort of mental illness that prevents me from just throwing away all of the leftovers?

Somehow this pile reminds me of the place in the movie Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer where all the misfit toys ended up, except this is where all the mismatched socks live. It's a lonely place, where the discarded toys know that nobody wants them. I wonder if any of the socks hook up while their sitting around waiting for me to find them a match. Do they get excited when Seth decides to wear them mismatched? I guess these are better thoughts than one that starts something like "I wonder if my washing machine eats some of my socks, and that's why I have so many mismatches." See my post on January 4th for more on the direction this thought leads to. It's not pretty.