Tuesday I worked for about 10 minutes sorting all the unmatched socks that previously resided on top of the dryer into neat stacks according to type (e.g., dress, athletic, Mom’s) on one of our couches. There probably were at least 50 socks requiring attention, most belonging to a certain #2 son.
I’ve dubbed the pile the “sock castle.” Just because it’s towering.
I was about to try to pair them as I mindlessly watched TV when I suddenly got tired. Which prompted me to try an experiment: Why not wait for the sock fairy? You know, the one who waltzes into houses magically and mysteriously when everyone’s asleep to match up mounds of loose socks.
So I left them where they rested, admonishing the Mister and my #1 son not to sit on them (males!). I went to sleep with visions of paired socks dancing in my head. Maybe we’d get the kind of sock fairy who would even lovingly deliver the garments to their respective recipients’ dresser drawers. Wouldn’t that be grand?
Wednesday morning I sprang out of bed, ran to the family room, and looked at the couch.
Sadly, the socks were just as I had left them the previous day. No sock fairy had deigned to visit and help out. And need I show you the exact same photo today?!? Same result as yesterday.
Looks like I need to turn to my cheap slave labor (aka my sons) while I supervise from my favorite chair, iPad in hand and feet up on the ottoman. No, I’m not their wicked stepmother, but for some reason I feel like emitting an evil cackle.
Hey, Cinderfellas! It’s time to storm the sock castle!!