mismatched socks

I'm wearing mismatched socks today. For any of you with kids, you're probably thinking and???

But here's the thing, my socks are never mismatched. ever.

Much to my surprise this morning as I pull out my sock drawer, I had no clean matched socks. Just black ones, which I hate, and only where to work. And only because black pants and white socks is socially unacceptable. So my matched black socks, out of the question entirely.

I fumble through the drawer, mad at myself for lack of doing laundry, looking for a lost pair in the back. No such luck. If you've ever seen my sock drawer, you may find cause to wonder if I may be a little OCD. In general, I like order. Everything has a place. My matched socks for instance, have a little home in my sock drawer in their own little box. I have a space for pantyhose, which I never wear either. Another for my "trouser" socks as my mom calls them. Don't wear those either. I like how the white socks feel. Because you know it's all about how it feels. And the last little corner is for my misfits. The unmatched homeless socks. Not sure why I keep 'em, maybe I hope their partner will reappear someday.

All my socks have mates. They stay with that mate till its either lost or old. They are kept together by numbers. (yes, this is where the OCD might show up again!) I like my socks to be washed the same number of times, therefore keeping the same texture as its partner. (yes, I realize I have put a lot of thought into socks.)

But today, not only do I have non matching socks on, but they are different brands. One thicker than the other. The other shorter. My feet are rather discombobulated.

Quick, where's the washing machine!