Socks

Freaking socks. The bane of my existence. I hate washing them, I hate matching them, and I hate digging them out of the bottom of the washing machine. I am convinced there is an gnome living in my house that jacks socks and pacifiers. Convinced. There is no.other.rational.explanation. I have in the past few months decided that I shall fold socks no more, so if you want socks, you have to refer to the 'sock basket' in the laundry room...that is where all of our mismatched, holey pile of feet warmth is. I am done looking for socks-don't even get me started on BABY socks. We wear them once, then POOF, socks are gone. We often wear socks of different colors, shapes and sizes...none of us really cares, nobody sees them anyways. But we have to have matching no-show socks for football-now really, if they are 'no shows' who really cares??? The boy insists on the matching socks...and he doesn't request much, so I do indulge his need for matching no shows for football-by purchasing a new pack every other week. Yesterday, as I walk in the door from racing home from Job#1, to start Job #2(had to start on a dress), to get ready for Job #3(Homecoming Boss-more on that in the next post), the boy announces in a very panicked voice that he has no no-shows, after piddling around for 20 minutes and right before we are WALKING OUT THE DOOR. Aw crap. I forgot to buy the damn socks. I start to get annoyed, then remember that I did in fact purchase a brand new shiny pack of no shows just this past Saturday-and inquired about the whereabouts of said socks. *crickets* then, I don't know. Seriously dude? Did you look in the basket? Yes....Did you look in your closet? um, yeah...really, you looked in the closet?? (I randomly remembered that I had seen said pack of socks shoved in there on Sunday after he threw them in there during his very suspiciously fast cleaning of his room, didn't have the energy to fuss about the fact that he shoved EVERYTHING in the closet, clean AND dirty clothes-awesome-and filed that sock sighting away for later use) Yeah Mom I looked in the closet. So the babe and I go in the boy's room and proceed to empty the closet-running late now-finding brand new jeans that he said he 'lost'...under armor shirts that also were 'lost', legos, batteries, and empty gogurt package-KILL-and wow, a pack of no show socks. Dude, your socks are here...They weren't there when I looked. Screw the wine, where's my SHOT???