This is my laundry room. I'm not showing you my washer and dryer because that's not what I want to talk about. And pay no attention to the I heart laundry bologna. ignore it. It was a positive affirmation I was using to trick myself, that I'm mad at.
I want to talk about this:
My Lonely Sock jar. My INCREDIBLY OVERFLOWING Lonely Sock jar.
I share this desperately crowded container with you because I have a deep feeling that someone out there may be able to relate to my darkness and help me find the inner domestic peace I have been so longing for.
I put this jar in my laundry room months ago so all those sad lonely socks who had lost their sweet companions would have a place to go. Friends to hang out with until their pair was found, you know? That's a righteous desire, yes? NO!
I've created a sock swallowing abyss.
my problem = overflowing sock jar and naked feet because nobody has any socks to wear because they can't seem to locate that big jar labeled SOCKS.
My solution = Empty the thing, and every sock drawer in the house, right in front of the tv and politely request that the sweet naked footed children MATCH THE SOCKS! Or live forever in their bareness.
(The little pile off to the side are Conan's socks, so as not to be confused (and stolen) as little boy socks.)
The reaping went rather well. I didn't take pictures because there was much weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth which I chose not to document.
Each pair-less sock was successfully eliminated! I had to add a rule that if any sock had a hole larger than their pinky toe it was also thrown out, along with its pair. And the rest made it safely back to where they belong in their drawer of choice...together...forever.
Aaaaahhhh. empty jar. sigh. life is good to me.
It's been 3 days.
I repeat...THU-REE days.
And may I present to you, my once upon a time empty Lonely Sock jar:
WHERE DID THOSE COME FROM? WHY ARE THEY HERE? WHY CAN'T THEY JUST LEAVE ME ALONE?!! For all that's good and lovely in this world.
i totally quit.