Let the sorting begin!

An altogether nice afternoon. I was wondering when the rain was going to start here. It has only rained a couple of times since I moved here in mid July, and from my previous experience with Ireland, that;s some kind of record. In winter, at least, it tends to rain a lot more, and with things cooling down I was wondering when the sunny weather was going to change. Today things were gray and a little drizzly, and I actually left the lights off in the living room for most of the day to enjoy the light outside. That's all well and good when you're watching TV and eating Rice Krispies, but then the laundry began. I had washed a lot of "socks and jocks" (another Edmundism), chunked them into a laundry basket, and was pointedly ignoring them until this afternoon, when I knew they could be ignored no longer. So I put on a DVD of The Big Bang Theory, grabbed a bottle of water (still doing the Bikram--never been so hydrated in my life) and let the sorting begin.



This is my pile of socks. Took me two, maybe two and a half minutes to sort through and pair, and that's giving extra time for the distraction of Dr. Sheldon Cooper on TV. I don't think I own a single pair of solid colored socks, which means that at any given time my socks do not match what I'm wearing. I'm not even saying that I would worry about the matching socks, belt, and scrunchie--I'm saying that I could very well be wearing a plaid flannel shirt (my favorite thing: 1992, my loyalty never wavered) in tones of brown and green along with some kind of red argyle socks. I just think printed socks, preferably from Gap or Old Navy, wear better and they feel better. Anyway, what I mean is, it would be easier to spot the identical twin of, say, Dennis Rodman than that of Joe Bailey.

Who?

Exactly.



This is the pile of Edmund's socks. How long do you think it took me to go through all these? Hm? They aren't all the same, oh no, they all vary JUST A LEEETLE in type, size, color, etc.

Good thing he wears red satin thongs. That made my job easier in the underwear sorting department. Except I hate it when he wears the g-strings. The strings get tangled in the washer, and I'm not about to start hand washing HIS delicates.



Oops! He didn't like me telling you that.