You might wonder why I’m blogging about socks of all things, especially when the temperature here in Northern California has soared to about 90 degrees today. But I have reached my limit. It reminds me of the day when my long-suffering mother (who was not a morning person AT ALL) finally got fed up of my dad not eating the sandwiches she got up to make him every day. It was like a mini-revolution the day she finally said ‘make your own b****y sandwiches!”

I feel like this about socks. In my house there are 4 males with big feet. Apparently there are only about 5 brands of socks for men in the universe and as far as I can see, they all look the same. I do laundry almost everyday but usually just one white load a week so everyone’s socks get stuck in together. Sometimes I’ll pull out about 61 socks from the dryer and try and sort them out.

This leads to discussion like “No, mom, mine are the one’s with the thin black line beneath the red Hanes logo with the grey toes, not the one’s with the red line and the black Hanes logo and the all grey foot…”

I don’t care anymore. Especially when son #2 swears he will never wear again any sock that anyone else has accidentally put on their foot after I’ve redistributed them LOL So I rebelled and told them henceforth I would leave all the white socks in a big pile and they could sort out their own. You would’ve thought I’d suggested they wash them themselves so great was the consternation. But I intend to stand firm. They’ll work it out when they have no socks left to wear.

…and that brings me to a word about Mr. Kate Pearce and his sock fetish. I can guarantee that whenever I take him to a new store, he will reappear at some point with a new pack of black or white socks clutched in his hand. When I point out that he already has about 60 pairs of socks, he promises to throw some out. Ha! I suppose I should be grateful he is clean, right? but sometimes…

Anything about your loved ones that bugs you? Please share