We have only lived here two weeks. How can I already have unmatched socks?
One is especially irritating, because in preparation for moving, I gave up on ever finding it and threw away the mate less than a month ago, after it had sat in the basket all of 2020.
12 comments:
Parallel universes governed by gods with a perverse sense of humor -- it's the only thing that makes sense. Sort of.
My corollary is the accumulating pile of left-handed gardening gloves.
Socks are the larval form of coat-hangers.
That makes sense.
What do coat-hangers turn into, though? There never seem to be enough--especially in the in-between seasons. The only time I can find one easily is when some smooth hanger has shrugged a smooth shirt onto the floor.
No, we've got way extra over here. I decided to put my sweaters on hangers at the new house instead of putting them in the cedar chest, and I left a collection at the old house for the new people.
Coat-hangars turn into Tupperware lids.
Lids that no longer match any containers.
I can sort of get the mismatch for small containers, but we have tub lids that fit nothing, and are only useful for small-child sledding. And pile-o-junk separators.
The important thing is the perversity of inanimate objects. They sense your fear. If you're missing lids, coat-hangers turn into the unmatched Tupperware bottoms.
I have heard if you feed the washer and dryer a T-shirt occasionally, telling them that it is theirs to keep, they leave your socks alone. I've never tested the theory.
It has to be a virgin t-shirt.
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