Holy Shit! How Many Socks Do You Need?

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OK, so there are three piles.  T-shirts that I can wear in public.  T-shirts that have stains or glue marks that I can only wear to work.  And T-shirts that are so ratty or horribly stained that I shouldn't even wear them to a construction site.

Robin went on a laundry frenzy this weekend, and presented me with two options:  I can sort these out and find a proper place for them in my drawers, or she could sort them for me... by donating them to the YWCA or by putting them in the garbage.

And don't even get her started on the socks. 

I went to the store this afternoon, and when I returned there was a pile of socks literally three feet high on the couch.  All nicely paired and freshly laundered.

"You can pick your favorite ten pairs, the rest are getting donated," she informed me.

Aw, Hell no!  There are at least 24 pair of almost-new socks in that mess, plus another twenty or thirty pair that are only a few months old.  I kinda went nuts over the last few months, when I had a steady job.  Being only sporadically employed over the past three years, when I got to month four of a steady job this summer, I kinda went on a spending frenzy.  Not on stupid shit, but on stuff I know that I'd need if and when I got laid off again.  Like Seagram's 7 Whiskey and about a dozen boxes of Kraft Deluxe Macaroni & Cheese (on sale at Mariano's for only $1.89!!)

And socks.  And underoos.

In June I bought me a dozen pair of socks.  But they were a bit small -- uncomfortable in my work boots.  But OK for my Converse All-Stars after work.  So I kept them and bought another dozen of another brand for work.  They fit great, so I bought another dozen the next day -- it was right on my way home from work.  This all after I had already purchased six pair of high-priced work socks from Rogan's Shoes in May -- but they made my feet too hot.

So I spent the month of August living like a Rock God (Joe Walsh, specifically...)  New socks and new underwear every day for 24 days in a row.  SWEET!  Joe Walsh wears brand new underwear and socks every day of his life.  Then his people launder them and donate them to a shelter.  I don't have that luxury, so five or six at a time, my new laundered socks started to fill up my dresser.  I didn't care, since I was pulling a new pair out of their original plastic every day anyway. 

And since Robin recently had shoulder surgery, I was able to keep the laundry scam working perfectly... about a third of all our stuff was in the dirty laundry, a third in the clean laundry pile on the back-room couch, (waiting for me to get off my dead ass and sort and fold them), and about a third tucked neatly away in the drawers -- (which I didn't need because I was picking clothes off the "waiting" pile every day. Why bother putting them away when you can just put them on?)

Well, that shit only went so far, and Robin's on the way to a full recovery.  So much so that she began a scorched-earth policy of cleaning this place up, God bless her.  After a lifetime of working full time, she's now had a full month off, and she's tired of looking at the same four walls.  A clean-up was in order.  And away she went.

Which is what brought me face to face with a three-foot-high pile of clean socks.  I tried to negotiate... I paid good money for these socks, and some of them have only been worn a few times!

"Pick your favorite ten.  The rest go to the YWCA," she said, holding fast.

I argued that was wasting good socks -- I'll bag them up and keep them until the top ten wear out...

"So the mice can chew them up and make a nest, like they do with everything else around here?  Ten pairs. Pick 'em."

Aw come on, let me keep 20.

"You won't even fit 10 in your drawer -- it's packed with underwear.  Ten pairs.  And go through those T-shirts, too.  Your drawer won't close."


Well I know for a fact that there are two ways to argue with your wife, and neither of them work.  So I sucked it up and picked the newest looking 10 pairs of socks, and stuffed the rest into a Mariano's shopping bag.  Then she brought out another laundry basket -- filled with socks that she hadn't matched.


"You haven't looked in here in two years.  These are going too."


Sheesh, I've never seen this many socks in my life.  So I started filling donation bags.  Three shopping bags full.  But when Robin wasn't looking, I sneaked the Mariano's bag full of my other new socks into our closet and put it on a shelf.  I may have gotten away with it, but I don't know...

Fido saw what I did. 

And that little bastard will sell me out for a Milk-Bone, I know it...