Not So Secret Journal

Anyone else hate pairing socks?

Obviously, us being a family of 8, socks rule this house.  7 people still live here, (Don’t worry I haven’t lost one, he’s safe and well, just too big to still be living with his mum, apparently) that’s 3 adults (nearly 4), 2 teenagers, and 2 smaller people, equals a shed load of socks.

By now we should not only have shares in a dairy, a bakery, and Levers (for the amount of soap toothpaste and laundry detergent we go through) but shares in a sock factory too.

Now I feel a bit sorry for socks, they go into the wash as a couple and come out alone, God knows what kicks off in that washing machine of mine, because socks disappear like it’s the Bermuda triangle. I feel a bit like Jermery Kyle, when it comes to trying my very best to keep these little socks as a couple.

So, three times a week I have to spend a tedious amount of time trying to find the socks long lost relatives.  I’m like the Davina McCall of socks (she did that long lost families programme that made everyone cry, for those not in the know)

I’ve tried anyway that I can, to try and keep these “couples” together, I’ve tried little bags that you place all the socks in to keep them together, I’ve tried couple counselling them where I physically roll them inside each other just at the top to keep them both safe, I’ve read all the expert advice, but these bloody socks won’t stay together. The divorce rate for socks must be through the roof. 

Now there’s an opening in the market, sock divorce lawyer.

Once I’ve finished pairing what I think are couples, the white socks and black ones are the easiest believe me, to be honest if they look like a pair they’re going together, it must be a bit like how adoptions might work, you look at the child or grown up and think that one looks a bit like us we will take that one, so they just get paired up no issues, it’s the red, yellow, butterfly, grippy socks that are the troublemakers in this house, that’s when the real work begins.

I have a little box of socks that live in my utility room. I know that sounds posh, but it’s the back of the garage where the washing machine, tumble dryer and coats live, as well as my ironing basket that cry’s daily because I never pay it any attention and it looks like its thrown up all over itself as there are clothes all over it.

In this little box live single socks, now I’ve started comparing it to a “Tinder Box” because swipe left or right some little knob of a sock is going to be in there. (I’m happily married so I only know about tinder from my besties stories). So, when I look in this box to try and find Mr or Mrs right or left sock, I tend to find the missing party as it were and off, they go happily ever after into the sock draw to fight another day.

Sadly, this isn’t the case for all the socks and when they haven’t been claimed for 3 months they end up in the bin, my life is chaos enough without holding on to single socks that may or may not find its mate after 3 months of singledom.

Maybe I should do one of those commercials you see for the donkey’s living in Africa, and get some sponsors for the lost and lonely socks so they can live here fully funded for the rest of their sock days.

Anyone else suffering from SSS (Single Sock Syndrome)

Catch you all laters xx