There have been three periods in my life when I actually enjoyed doing laundry and that was when I had newborns in the house. I used to love folding those cute little onesies and one piece footed jammies, the little overalls and and the little rompers. They were so soft and smelled so good. I didn't even mind sorting the tiny little socks.
Socks. I hate them now, and they are not to be confused with Sox of the Red variety, because those Sox I love. But the Socks I'm talking about aren't cute and little anymore. They are big and wholey and they all look the same. With three big footed people in the house I can't tell the difference between them and I have no idea which socks belong to which person.
I don't wear them in the summer and I know the ones that belong to the Little guy, but the other 3/5 of the socks in this house are a complete mystery to me.
There are tall white socks, white ankle length socks, no-see socks and soccer socks, which are the worst of the worst because they are usually stiff (I know, yuck) and inside out. Again, these look exactly the same to me, but apparently there are some very subtle differences that can only be felt by sensitive soccer feet. (insert eye roll).
There has been a giant laundry basket full of said socks sitting in the corner of my bedroom for awhile now. So with the rainy day and everyone out at one camp or another I decided to tackle sock hell.
I put on the bedroom television and tuned in to my favorite sock folding channel. The Food Network. I found Guy from Guy's Big Bite making some kind of Flank Steak and McCallister potatoes. Guy is cool. He's got funky blond hair and also hosts a really good show called Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives. The stuff he cooks on his show is fairly simple which is what I need. The potatoes he was making involved sour cream, bacon and frying, and needless to say, I will be attempting those soon, but I digress...
I dumped the socks onto the bed and dug in. I sorted, matched, and folded for over an hour. I was in the zone. Matching sock after sock. My hands were a flurry of activity as my eyes darted from one side of the bed to the other. I never actually counted how many pairs I sorted and folded, but I'm sure I broke the record. When all was said and done I only had 8 unmatched socks. I threw them away.
Now I'm looking at my family, all walking around wearing socks. More socks to sort, more socks to match, more socks to fold. So keeping with the Olympic Spirit, I'll just have to go for the new record.
...Swifter, Higher Stronger!
Go Lisa, Go Mom, Go USA!