Yesterday as I was sorting the mountains of laundry that had accumulated in our apartment, I was perplexed by this site at the bottom of the laundry basket:
My husband's socks from his latest softball game. I couldn't understand why he thought these were even salvageable from their current state. I turned them over to get a closer look. Holes.
Why was he even hanging on to these? I understand that the economy is rough, but we've got a little money saved up in the bank for tough times. And these socks are definitely having a tough time. I took a picture, texted my husband and asked him what kind of miracle he was hoping for. He informed me that he'd had these socks since high school, and they were his "playing socks." What? Since high school? He hasn't replaced his socks in 15 years? (Yes, he is that old...) Well that settled it. I texted him back, told him it wasn't fair to the socks to make them go on this way. I reassured him that they've had a good long life, but it was time to let them go. They'd be happier not suffering anymore. Goodbye old, dirty socks. It's been quite a ride.