I have to make this quick. I’m being watched.
Last week, as part of a “staycation” I was taking to mourn my 40th birthday, I attempted to tackle a few household chores. Anyone with small children can tell you that trying to keep the house straightened up is a full-time job in and of itself, mostly due to the fact that said little ones would appear to be adamantly against anyone or anything that would have the audacity to try to upset the chaos that they have gone to great lengths to painstakingly cultivate. They know what lies between the couch cushions, and there is a damn good reason why those Lego bricks and Matchbox cars should be left right where they are. It’s not their fault that it’s on a “need to know” basis and you just so happen to not make the cut.
Of course the worst of these chores was the tackling of the laundry. It had been piling up for a while, and had only gotten worse with the influx of new items that Santa brought. Of course, that might be due to the fact that those same new items were the reason we had been able to slide on the laundry. Why worry about washing the old stuff when you have a bunch of new stuff you can slip on? Well, that works great right up until you run our of the new stuff. Then you end up with a mountain of new and old stuff that I kid you not was double the height of Roundbottom at its peak. Facing the dread of having to start reversing underwear for a second wearing, it was time to start adulting and tackle the behemoth.
Now 90% of that behemoth consisted of little people clothes. Another 25% consisted of socks with soles no longer than my index finger. These are the bane of my existence. The most frustrating part of my morning routine is the 15 minutes I take to try to find a matching pair of socks for my eldest son so that the teachers at school won’t see how horrible I am at parenting. So naturally, most days end up being a choice between that or making it out the door so I can get to work on time. Needless to say, his teachers are surely aware by now of how bad a parent I am, because that child goes to school 3 out of 4 days in a pair of socks that don’t match.
The only break in the cycle is buying new socks. For about six days, I experience renewed hope as I send him to school in matching pairs, fully resolved to insure that the pairs remain intact. As they are removed from his feet upon return to the house (wearing socks inside the house is verboten as far as he is concerned), I roll them together to make damn sure they stay that way through the laundry process.
As you can probably guess, that doesn’t happen. Ever.
So since I had the time this week, I made damn sure that matching pairs were moved from the laundry mountain, to the washer, and finally to the drier. I did an inventory EVERY TIME. And you know what? I still ended up with ten lonely socks that were no doubt tormented by the loss of their sole mates.
This should be impossible. I checked and double-checked to make sure pairs were intact. There is no way they could just disappear. That’s when it dawned on me:
I am absolutely convinced that there is a conspiracy among sock manufacturers that has master-minded the creation of a cotton based fabric that will dissolve during the laundry process. This is a plot to boost sales numbers exponentially as well as to keep hard working parents dependent on them. “That doesn’t make any sense,” you say, “if the socks dissolve, how can they be making their way from the washer to the dryer. Shouldn’t the water be dissolving them before you even get to that point? If they dissolve, shouldn’t you be left with no socks at all?”. Therein lies the genius. Therein lies the malice.
In an effort to cover their tracks, the sock companies don’t use the dissolving fabric on every sock. The fabric is randomly used on about 45% of those manufactured. They don’t just dissolve in the water either. It’s a chemical process where-in the combination of soap and water plus the heat from the dryer initiate the reaction that dissolves the sock. “Wait”, you say “there still has to be something left over. You can’t just completely dissolve matter”.
Why do you think your lint trap is so full?
It’s &*(^ing GENIUS. It’s diabolical. Socks disappear, and the companies know we’ll go out and buy a whole new pack due to feelings of parental inadequacy and self-consciousness. It makes leaked election e-mails and ties between government officials and foreign interests look like bad comedy. Children on playgrounds around the world are being mocked for wearing navy socks with white ones, as their beleaguered parents stand by helplessly, blowing grocery budgets on new packs of 4-T to 5-T socks. It has to stop.
We have to stop it.
Now you know. Spread the word. Hanes, Fruit of the Loom, they’re all in on it. Fight the power. Show them we won’t be taken in like a pair of worn trousers. Alert the media. Call your congressman. There must be an investigation! They must be held accountable!
Sh!t. I just realized how long this rant took. They no doubt have my IP address by now. There are strange men in fruit costumes watching me. If anything happens to me, you know who to look at first. Don’t let them silence you! FIGHT! FIGHT FOR THE CHILDREN!! FI……….
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