My life is pretty much a continuous battle with socks. Oh sure, I have the usual battle with pairs going into the laundry and only singles coming out. But the main problem I have with socks is finding them where they are not meant to be.
The other day I sat down in the downstairs bathroom and there, out of the corner of my eye to my right, behind the trashcan, was a pair of socks.
I decided to leave them there.
For two days they lay there. Finally I gave up and put them in the laundry. As I grumbled my way back downstairs from the laundry room, I scooped up my keys and went out to car to go to Jazzercise.
On the floor of my car, between the front seat, where two pair of my own athletic socks.
People who live in glass houses...