Navy Needle in a Haystack
Thursday, October 8, 2009 at 12:31PM 
That right there is a teetering, tottering heap of a reminder of everything I need to do. But can't.
"SLACKER!" it screams.
I'm staring at a pile of dirty dishes and tea cups now.
I think I hear them screaming too: "YOU SUCK!"
I used to love folding laundry. Washing dishes. I used to find Zen while my hands went through the motion and my head spaced out in delicious, unhurried thought.
Nothing delicious or unhurried about it now. Now it barely gets done.
So, I stare at dirty dishes and the mountainous laundry pile grows. At least it's getting washed, right?
Every morning, we clomp down the basement stairs and pull the essentials - random socks and clean underwear - from the tower and try mightily to keep it from toppling.
This morning, though, this morning Esme cried when I presented her with the white socks I scored from the pile.
"We can't wear these," she said. I wasn't aware of the uniform requirement that insisted blue socks go with the plaid dress and white socks go only with the skirt or gym shorts. Well, OK, I was aware of it but I was hoping she wasn't. It was our turn to drive carpool and she needed to be dressed. Like NOW.
So I steamed off to the basement and began a comical search for a pair of navy blue socks. A search complicated by the fact that I only bought two pair for the school year.
Crazy, I know. But more crazy was the fact that Lands End wanted to charge me $15 for navy knee socks. I refused - having already given the thieves $500 for various uniform paraphernalia - and went looking for socks elsewhere.
I struck out at Target. And Children's Place. And Stride Rite. And Nordstrom's. And finally found the last two pair at The Gap.
I've looked for more since. Obviously, unsuccessfully which brings us to this morning.
I searched and searched and searched and finally Kent shouted from the top of the stairs, "We found them."
The dirty ones. (Shhh, don't tell my daughter).
The first- and sixth-grader we drive were sitting on the porch patiently waiting as the sock saga unfolded.
And now, the moral of the story: It should be that I immediately set about folding the laundry upon my return and that I've resolved to never let the mountain grow again.
Alas, it is not.
Later today, I'm going to fork over a small fortune to Lands End and buy more socks.
Reader Comments (1)
I am so happy to know we are not the only family who "lives" out of our laundry room! We call ours "Mt. Tide" :)