Sunday, 22 September 2013

My secret sock shame

I have this orange milk crate that sits in the bottom of my wardrobe collecting odd socks as I do the laundry.  Back in the day, when it was just Charles and I, this was a perfectly workable system that would only drive me up the wall once every six months or so.  Throw in two children though and it was disastrous.  I was last on top of the sock crate situation somewhere in 2006 - probably late in the year after the Winter when my daughter graduated from onesies to outfits with shoes.  It's been spilling out of its wardrobe home for a couple of years now and I have to cram the wardrobe door shut to contain it all.  I have been known to head to Kmart at ten at night to buy my children new socks so I don't have to locate a pair out of the orange crate in the morning.  The sock crate is now a repository of forlorn, feeble little socks that don't even fit anyone in my small family and still I can't let go.  

The fact that I am atrocious at pairing socks doesn't help.  I used to put away all the washing all the time and the socks were Charles' one washing-related job that he absolutely must do.  I'd usually wind up begging for him to please do it now because I'd be cycling through the last two pairs I had and he'd say something completely reassuring like, "it's not that hard you know" and he'd roll his eyes at how much self-congratulation I showered myself with for managing to pair three lots of socks when he'd done the remaining fifty in the same amount of time.

I digress.  Anyway, recently the sock crate became the sock crate and a washing basket and tonight I resigned myself to sorting them out.  On my own.  Here's what the initial pile looked like;


Sitting down and spreading it out made it look worse.


Yes the dump truck is purely coincidental if somewhat ironic.

I made a huge mug of decaf coffee, threw in cocoa and sugar for extra measure and then added a small bowl of chips.  I sat down with a ridiculous fluff film and tackled it.  An hour later and this is what I wound up with;

12 pairs of socks for Charlotte
24 pairs for me (including 3 pairs of bed socks and yes I need that many because my daughter constantly pilfers them)
29 pairs for James (!)
6 pairs that are too little for any of us
18 socks belonging to the ex (which I didn't bother matching but threw into the latest crate of things I have to return to him along with a bunch of Collingwood supporter gear)

The problem is this;


There are 109 odd socks and 2 odd gloves in there.  I'm monumentally screwed.  Please someone.  I need some sort of intervention.  My small family unit has 65 pairs of socks between us.  I need someone to break the cycle and make me throw this lot out because we clearly don't need any more than we've already got.

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