The Minnesota Farm Woman

We have his and hers jobs here at our house. He takes the outside, such as mowing, weed whacking, and snow removal.  I take the inside jobs like bathrooms, floors, and laundry. As long as there is not a foot of snow underneath the clothesline, I prefer to hang the laundry outside, which is my time to think. I really like doing laundry. I love to match towel to towel, shirt to shirt, each one attached to the other, his next to his, mine next to mine. Before you think I have a borderline obsessive-compulsive disorder, hanging them like this makes it more convenient for folding them and putting them away, which brings me to the socks.  I like to match up the socks as I hang them on the line.  My socks are easy.  I have eight pair of ankle length tennis socks, all in black. All the same. Fashionista I am not, but most of my work pants are black, and black goes well with jeans, so black it is.  HE has 106 pair of white cotton athletic socks, all different lengths, all different brands.  I hang each wet sock at the edge of the clothes basket until I find the mate, all the while being eaten alive by swarms of voraciously hungry mosquitoes and surrounded by curious chickens, who think that every container carried out the back door is something for them to eat. I wish they would develop appetites for both socks and mosquitos.  Each week I give my life’s blood to match up the white socks, and each week I end up with a lot of mosquito bites and a mismatched pair or an extra sock, and it drives me crazy. (OK, perhaps there is a SLIGHT case of obsessive compulsive disorder here. )  Last week I decided to take action.  I used the mismatched socks as cleaning rags, and I THREW THEM AWAY after  used them.  I can hear the horrified judgemental gasps from the  “Use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without” crowd, but before you judge, I must tell you that these were not the newest socks in the bunch, nor were they in the best shape.  HE is definitely in the “wear it out” category of the crowd.  My sneaky plan is to sneak an older sock or two out of each week’s laundry until all the socks match.  Although I was slightly exaggerating the number of socks he owns, he may still run out eventually.  I will then go shopping for more:  Eight pair, all white cotton, all matching exactly.  It will sure make life easier.

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