This is a sock.
A why-do-they-take-their-shoes-off-but-not-their-socks-when-they’re-playing-outside sock.
As I’m folding laundry, it DOES register that socks like these should be tossed straight into the trashcan. Unlike towels on the bathroom floor, I do see the holes and acknowledge the sock’s worthlessness.
But this summer, I had to make a VERY conscious decision to grab a trashcan and place it next to me as I folded clothes. I made myself throw away any severely discolored or overly-airy socks.
Why is this so hard for me?
I don’t trust myself. I know that even when I know we need something, I have a wonderful ability to spend hours at the store getting everything we need . . . but that. Hubby feels like he hit the jackpot when I actually remember something he requested.
The logical solution would be to make a list. And I do that.
And then, just as regularly, I lose the list. Or I remember just where it is sitting on the front seat of the Suburban at the point when my cart is half full and I don’t feel like running out to the parking lot.
Or, I remember the list, check it off carefully . . . and realize when I get home that I missed something really important.
I’m often afraid to throw something away because I don’t trust myself to remember to buy another one. And grungy, holey socks are better than no socks at all, right?
Unless the P.E. teacher plans a sock hop.
And just so you know, this is not a randomly written post. It was inspired by the fact that I had no clean socks for the boys this morning . . . because I haven’t remembered to go buy more since I threw all those away.
Note to self: Buy socks.
Note to self: Don’t lose first note.