Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Sorting Through The Sock Basket.

Obvious Non-WoW Title is really obvious Non-WoW post. Keep reading if you dare!

I looked for an image of a sock basket, but the internet doesn't have the equivalent of mine up anywhere, and my camera battery is not recharging, so I just have to paint a picture for you with words. My sock basket is large, rectangular, and white, repaired with black duct tape, overflowing with socks. No one in their right mind has a sock basket this large except me.

I have been up since 2 this morning. I woke up with a dry throat and tonsils that feel like they are the size of tangerines. Blah. What better way to spend a sleepless night (during my spring break!) than do laundry. You see, I have 7 kids (4 full time, 3 more on what works out to be a little over half the year sharing plan), and laundry here is serious business. Daily, if I would actually get my kids to do it, we should be doing 2 loads, at least. Just when I think I have caught up and am all proud of myself (because my little laundry room isn't groaning under the weight of unwashed towels), I find a full time daughter (they are interchangeable in this role) has been stashing dirty laundry under the bed/on the floor/on the bed/in the closet/wherever they can hide it, and I am pressured to run the washer and dryer overtime.

This time it is full time child number three, otherwise known to my husband as number 6. She is a cute little thing who has starred in such lame videos as,"Look at us cleaning out the bomb shelter" and done some model shoots in such articles as "I Lost Some Geek Cred Today"(don't worry, number 1, t-shirt model extraordinaire, also is stashing I-don't-know-what in her room. She just really isn't as cute or as fun to tell on, because she is a teenager). So, I am awake, and doing laundry, and have run out of things to fold while the laundry runs. This, during the normal daytime hours, would mean that I would switch up to something noisy like cleaning out cabinets (because kids never put things away the way you told them to 20 times already) or swearing like a sailor while I attempt to organize the linen closet (same reason, kids cannot seem to follow the example set before them). Since it is way too early for that kind of noise, I am settling for sorting through the sock basket, one of my favorite chores. By favorite, I mean that I am only tackling it because mom #2 (known to the part timers as mom, but hey, she hasn't got near as many loads of laundry to deal with, so, yeah, number 2) is missing an amount of socks if not equal to amount of socks regularly produced by Hanes in a month, then pretty darned close. My lovable step son has a habit of wearing socks here, and sneaking home without them, or if caught, putting on two totally different socks from the sock basket and wearing those home. They tried recently making him pay for a set of socks out of his own money. I don't remember seeing many new socks here, so I am guessing either this is working, or he is coming to my house without socks. What? Tell me you look at every person you meet and notice right off if they have socks on or not. Go ahead. Make up an excuse. You don't. Neither do I.

Well, back to where I was going with this. Having 9 pairs of feet in this house, and 2 different people buying socks for all these different feet(we won't get into well meaning grandparents), you can imagine the assortment I have in my laundry basket. This is how I mean to tackle this monstrosity.

Before you start, don't make the mistake of trying to pair up anything before starting with step one. You will waste precious time trying to find the one sock you knew you just saw, and will become so frustrated that you will pile the socks back into the basket and let the cats sleep in it for another week or month. This is unacceptable, as mom #2 (who is just labeled so for convenience, and not because she is any less of a mom) should really get her socks back before the youngest of her three are in college.
  1. Take out all black socks and put aside. These all belong to hubby, and if they don't, we'll find out later. 98% of all black socks in the house belong to him, because he decided that he would like to be able to find a pair of socks any time he wanted to. Silly man. But guess who is ready first when we are going somewhere. Mhmmmm.
  2. Take out all colored and patterned socks and put to the other side. These are probably kids socks, but I throw my bootie socks with the colored tops into this pile to, if they present themselves easily.
  3. Take out all socks with colored toes and put them off until last. They are a pain, because just when you think they match because the toes match, you notice one has lettering on the toe, or one has a ribbed cuff while the other is smooth, or that grey color isn't manufactured but stained. Work on these when you are overly thrilled at how good you are at matching socks. It will take you down several notches.
  4. Take what is left,which should be all white, and pair them up. Put aside any that don't match to put in a new, smaller sock basket.
  5. Match up the black socks. Put aside the one that doesn't match because it is hiding up one of hubby's pant legs.
  6. Match up colored socks. My dad and his wonderful wife bought my girls these neat socks that come three to a pair. I forgot that they were like this and was all bent out of shape when, out of the three girls that I was pairing up for, one pair was of two different sized feet, and I still had one left over. Well, now that I remember that, the rest were rather easy, especially since I don't care if the color on the top of my bootie sock matches. Put odds with the white odd socks.
  7. Get a drink, preferably hot tea or chocolate. Something soothing will be necessary for the last few steps.
  8. Match up the colored toe socks. Sometimes, I separate these further into pink, grey, and other colored toes, then tackle them. This is sometimes easier. This category spawns the most odd socks, unfortunately. We'll deal with the odd socks later. Don't mix them into the other socks, because most of them aren't ours.
  9. Put all your paired socks in a pile on the couch. At the full time children's next convenience, have them take theirs to their room. Don't try to figure out whose socks are whose. With the exception of number 7, all the other feet are about the same size. They know what socks are theirs, and will complain loudly and at length if you try to hand them any socks but their own. This is why I leave them piled and have them choose out their socks.
  10. Before they run away, have them choose out their colored toe socks from the odd pile. Put these in the new, smaller sock basket.
  11. Make sure your socks and those belonging to number 7 have been taken out, then bag up all remaining pairs and odd colored toe socks and send them home with the boy this coming Sunday. This should either delight mom #2, or really annoy her. I'm seriously hoping for the first response, because I generally end up annoying her, and I don't usually aim to displease. Really! Well, maybe just once....
There you have it. What I have been doing for the past 3 hours (you can discount the last 20 minutes of me blathering on about socks.) No, I am not done with the colored toe socks. I stopped to inform you of the pleasure that is my sock basket. Now, I get to go back and finish, or go to bed, or eat breakfast. It's 5 am. I think I'm going to leave the rest until tomorrow and curl up with the hubby. Here. kitty, kitty! I put all the socks back in the basket for you....

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