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Don't you love a day that starts out with the clothing wars? You know the kind I mean - you can't find what you want, or it doesn't fit, or somehow, despite the fact that it has hung in the middle of your closet since the last time it was laundered, it has managed to acquire what looks like a fresh jelly stain on it. (Don't ask. I didn't.)
Well, this morning was my turn at the wars. First it was the socks. You know socks - those things you almost never have because the washer and dryer, between them, snack on most of them. I was sitting there, with socks on my lap. Lots of socks. And none of them matched, even superficially. Two very soft socks, with shimmers of rainbow hues in the fabric over the main color, very subtle. Alas, as for the main color, one was blue and one was black. One white sock (which would have looked absurd with today's outfit, but I was desperate). One plain dark blue sock. Four black socks; one had flowers embroidered on it, and the other three had very distinct and unmatching patterns of bunches on the upper part. (Once, I thought these were designed to help hold the sock up. Having seen their performance in that area, I now understand their true purpose: to prevent the socks from matching and force the purchase of more socks after only mild loss to the laundry machines.)
At least the rest of my clothing was more cooperative. This time.
Have a good day, and don't let the dryer eat you.
Well, this morning was my turn at the wars. First it was the socks. You know socks - those things you almost never have because the washer and dryer, between them, snack on most of them. I was sitting there, with socks on my lap. Lots of socks. And none of them matched, even superficially. Two very soft socks, with shimmers of rainbow hues in the fabric over the main color, very subtle. Alas, as for the main color, one was blue and one was black. One white sock (which would have looked absurd with today's outfit, but I was desperate). One plain dark blue sock. Four black socks; one had flowers embroidered on it, and the other three had very distinct and unmatching patterns of bunches on the upper part. (Once, I thought these were designed to help hold the sock up. Having seen their performance in that area, I now understand their true purpose: to prevent the socks from matching and force the purchase of more socks after only mild loss to the laundry machines.)
At least the rest of my clothing was more cooperative. This time.
Have a good day, and don't let the dryer eat you.