Friday, July 29, 2011

Domestic Goddess

Yes, that is me, a Domestic Goddess.  There are lots of perks with that job, and some awful cons. 

Some perks:  You don't have to get dressed until you feel like it.  Naps!  If you are good at the job, no one really know if you have a do nothing day.  You are the only one who knows where everything is.  You decide when to throw out the magazine collection.  You don't have to wear shoes. The smell of freshly starched ironed shirts. Cooking.

Some cons:  Cleaning toilets.  You are the only one who knows where everything is, yes a double edged sword.  You have to think of a different meal every single night.  Sorting socks. Ironing. Sorting socks.  Did I say sorting socks???

I hate hate hate sorting socks.  Marty usually wears two pairs a day.  One pair for work, and then he changes into sport socks when he gets home.  All his socks look alike, except they aren't.  He has navy blue socks and black ones just like them.  On a dark foggy day who can tell the difference?  He has over the calf socks and then the same brand and color that are 1/32 of an inch shorter.  He has sport socks that all came in the same bag .  Should be a no brainer, wrong.  He wears some of them more, so they have faded just a hair and must be carefully matched to their faded mate.  And then we have the socks below.


Look at them.  Study them.  I hate these socks.  I am tempted to throw them away and say the washer ate them.


Today I was matching socks and realized I had mixed these two pairs up. The just washed socks don't match. Yes the stupid patterns are different.  The pair on the bottom has two little thingys and the pair on the top has only one thingy.  I went through his sock drawer, I can't find the other mismatched socks.  I went through the hamper, not there.  Did I send Marty to work with mismatched socks?  I went through the sock drawer again.  Found them!  They were buried under several other pairs.  The man has way too many pairs of socks.  I reunited the socks with their mates.  Great joy in the sock drawer. 

As I said," I HATE SORTING SOCKS."

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