Side note: I had so many titles for this entry: “Sock Invaders”, “When Socks Attack”, “Lock, Sock and Barrel”, “Sock it to Me”, “Get Down with the Sockness”…. all so good, I couldn’t choose just one. Just pick the one you like best and insert it as the title.
When my husband and I moved in together and started merging our stuff, I uncovered a habit that still to this day, I have no idea how to deal with.
He’s a sock addict.
Or maybe I should say, *was* a sock addict. He’s now a recovering sock addict because when I discovered his stash…and realized the magnitude of the problem…I cut him off sock cold.
Let me explain (C’mon…you knew I would!)
My husband has three sons, two of whom were living at home when we got married. The boys hated doing laundry, particularly sorting socks. So they didn’t. EVER. As a result, the boys never had clean socks (or at least matching clean socks). And Dad, being the good dad that he is, thought that buying more new socks was the answer.
So the boys got a 12 pack of new socks every Christmas. Each.
And one for himself.
That is 36 new pairs of socks EVERY YEAR! (180 pairs in five years…360 new socks!)
It has been five years since we got married. The boys have since moved out.
Yet the socks remain.
These pictures were taken before I did laundry this week:
I am seriously ready to start packing them up for the homeless. Even weeding them out as they wear out will have him sock stocked for the next 20 years!!
In this house, addiction is a sockness. Say it with me, Hon…”My name is Hubster and I am a sock addict.”
Oh, and his favorite baseball team? Why the Boston Red Sox, of course! (It would have been soooo perfect if it was the White Sox instead!)