SOCKMANIA!

Socks became something of an issue with me long, long ago. As our family grew and I became less and less amused with how often clothes can be changed, etc., each family member was given a day of their own in which the washer and dryer were theirs. David and I shared a day, but sometimes he even did his own laundry, and sometimes he still does.
Socks are not clothes. They masquerade as clothes but really, they are in a class all their own because they walk, they wander, and are quite social. They can be found most anywhere. Those who reside here have been found inside articles of clothing, clinging for dear life to towels, and even lurking in dark corners. Fortunately I have established a new habit of separating the towels from everything else and this has aleviated my having to deal with insecurity.
But let's address the bottom line here. What happens when we finally make the attempt to match them? They each seem to have their own individual "look". I dread this task so much that I have been known to throw clean socks into a basket and actually collect them until I am forced, of a necessity, to DO something about them. (Family members just have to search for themselves but they don't usually want to go through this either.)
David has his own solution. When he is tired of the routine, he simply goes and buys more. Even though this further complicates the individual look problem, it rescues him from having to deal with it, at least for a time. But as I have been gleaning socks from under the bed and other odd places, I am experiencing an avalanche and the very thought of having to dig myself out of this mountain is something --- I am choosing to laugh at. We all know the alternative.

Good idea, Nancy ;)