Two Sizes Fits All

Socks.
Sock Math.
16 socks per day
112 socks per week
480 socks per month
3840 socks per year (flip-flop season taken into account).

And you wonder why I have a two-sizes-fits-all philosophy on socks.  That's right.  There is size-small and size-large.  MAKE IT WORK, people.  In the size-small category is Cannon, Faith, Elinor and Bethany.  In the size-large category is Clark, Me, and Abe.

I do make a sock size exception from birth to one year.  But I don't let the babies wear shoes, so I figure since I don't have to keep track of baby shoes, it makes up for the inconvenience of having to keep track of a whole other size of sock.

And no fancy socks either.  I want white.  Preferably the same brand, but that's the ideal-- not the reality.

The reality is an ugly thing called "The Sock Pile".  The sock pile used to be contained in a cute white wicker basket wherein I threw the rare sock without a match.  It now fills an entire full size laundry basket and includes unmatched and matched socks.  Yep.  I will match the socks when I fold laundry, if the match it obviously right in front of my face. I'll match it and then throw the match into the sock pile for one of my people to fish out.  I WILL NOT spend time searching and using actual brain power on matching socks anymore.

When my people get ready in the morning, they can use their brain power to search the sock pile for matching socks.  After all, I'm pretty sure they have more brain energy to spare than I do. 

The sock pile is the ultimate in pragmatism.  It's not lovely, but it works.  I'm not sure if I'm proud of myself or not.   

It does serve one other purpose.  You teased your sister?  You sassed your mother?  YOU SPEND 15 MINUTES ALONE WITH THE SOCK PILE!!!!!  You can match socks while you think about your crime.