Socks!

When I was in my early 20s I used to house sit for some of my mom's friends. I never snooped through anyone's stuff... but I used to steal their socks. It was never to be rude, it was really out of sheer laziness or having forgotten to bring my own.

I used to steal my mom's socks when I moved back from Olympia, mainly because I was out of clean ones.

I used to "borrow" ex-boyfriend's socks if I had spent the night and forgotten to grab my own.

I would buy socks from work if I worn sandals and had forgotten to bring socks to go with the shoes I remembered. I would buy fun new socks from work each time we got new styles.

I have more socks than I know what to fucking do with. Washing all of them with their matches, is an on going battle.

When Kevin and I collided, we both had the same type of Nike socks... they are all now stretched out to fit his hobbit feet. But he's left all my Adidas to me. Now the sock mish mash includes boot socks, wool socks, dress socks and Wigwam socks.

The other day Kevin pulled socks out of his drawer and informed me that the socks weren't his. Nope, they had belonged to an ex. I have a pair of socks with giraffes on them that I took from MJ and a pair of Calvin Klein socks I took from Sue. Random weird socks I took from my grandma's house. Cute little decorative socks I took from my mom. Random wool socks with out a match that my ex from the 1996s mom gave me for Christmas. A pair that my mom hand knit for my grandma, that my grandma said didn't do anything for her and pawned them off on me. Knee highs with skulls on them, that never stay up. And none of my brother's socks from that year we lived together, because I have no use for a men's 14 stretched out sock.

AND SOME DAYS, NONE OF MY OWN SOCKS ARE CLEAN.