Sunday, March 7, 2010

I Hate Folding Socks

Not an understatement, folks. There is a physical pain that precedes this awful task. I have to give myself at least two days worth of pep talks, and mosey through other chores before finally making it happen. Today was the day I got it done.

Really, once I got going and found a system, it wasn't so bad. I mean, mostly I started with all the white socks and separated those that were crew length from ankle length, and again by those with wide grooves from those with thin grooves, which really sped up the matching process. Then I moved on to dress socks and continued in the same fashion. By the time it was mostly over, I had combed through all the socks without real mates, or that had holes in them and put them in Patrick's pile completely disposed of them.

However, I still hate folding socks.


  1. I hate laundry so much. I feel a sob in my throat when I even look in the laundry basket. Socks? The very worst of the worst.

  2. Socks are the devil.

  3. Really socks? I hate T-shirts. There is a never ending pile of them at our house. Give me the socks and you can take the t-shirts.

  4. It's a deal, sister! T-shirts are alright by me!


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