There’s a sock revolution going on at my house. Actually, it’s more of a silent laundry boycott—a peaceful protest wherein I’m the only knowledgeable participant.
It’s a genius strategy—one initiated through my kid’s babysitter who’s probably clueless about what she’s started.
You see, ever since I got married, I’ve come face to face with wrong-side-out socks in the hamper. Shirts, pants, underwear—it all ends up in there the same way. But the socks? Those are the worst! To get those scrunchy, tube shaped scraps of material turned the right way, you have to pull a puppet routine with your hand and then shake, shake, shake before they’re washer ready.
I talked to hubby early on in our marriage. Told him it would really help things if he could just slide ‘em off his foot right-side-out to start with. He looked at me like I’d just announced the sky was chartreuse and said, “Its ok. The dirty part’s on the inside anyway.”
Even if he was right (which of course he isn’t)—does he realize I STILL have to turn them right-side-out when I take them out of the dryer?
I didn’t take my arguement further. Despite the grumbles it gives me three times a week as I sort the laundry, it didn’t seem like the right battle to wage. (Yes, I said three times a week. I live with two little girls and a husband who, I suspect, think there really is a laundry fairy.)
And then came the sitter…
You see, any after school sitter we employ is asked to keep the laundry moving in the afternoon so I’m not still folding and putting up clothes at 2am. Our newest sitter is just a doll. A young woman who’s about as easy going as they come—even in the face of third grade math homework.
I’d already given up on turning hubby’s socks right-side-out coming out of the hamper, opting to handle the task during the fold process. (Hey, if he thinks the inside is the dirtiest part, who am I to judge?)
I was putting up a round of clothes folded by the sitter one day when I realized, “Hey, his socks are still inside-out.”
I sat down the basket and started to fix them.
Then I stopped.
“What would happen,” I wondered, “if I left them alone?”
My mind swirled around like an angry April Oklahoma tornado. Would he actually WEAR them that way? I mean, if he did, then eventually, they’d end up in the hamper right-side-out! Genius!
It’s been going on for about a week now. I still haven’t been able to tell if he’s wearing them wrong (they’re black and too hard to see without blowing my cover), or if he’s fixing them before he puts them on. Either way it comes out as a win.
What about you? Do you have any mini-rebellions under siege in your house? Ever thought about starting a rebellion?
I could be more like my mom and do a lot worse. She put Ex-lax in a desert for my dad once when he made her mad. At least I’m limiting mine to socks.