It is a period of civil war. House mate socks, coming from the washing machine, are going unidentified and unclaimed throughout the galaxy. Finders of the socks can stop the ‘mismatched sock phenomenon’ and restore peace to the galaxy…
You might find: a load of washing that’s been in the dryer for the whole day; a smelly, soggy, and wet heap of clothes in the washing machine; or an unidentified sock that you know isn’t yours. A challenge when sharing a washing machine others.
Sharing a washing machine with others results in three things,
- Leftover loads
- Hectic Saturdays and Sundays
- Mystery socks
Firstly, forgotten loads. Do you dump it out the front of their bedroom? Call them to come get it? What if they’re not there? What are the protocols for good ‘washing machine manners’? For me, it comes out and goes on the bench or the sink next to the machine. Crisis averted.
Secondly, the Saturday and Sunday shemozzles get me. Everyone has a busy week, and the the weekend arrives and it’s a free for all. First in, best dressed. My Mondays have started with thongs because I couldn’t get my socks washed on the weekend. So how do you avoid this? Is this a common problem amongst people sharing a washing machine? I’m desperately trying to form good habits and a washing routine that takes place during weekdays. However, my multitasking isn’t so flash. My ideas of grandeur about putting my dinner in the oven, starting a load of washing, and going for a run all in the space of an hour usually end in me on the couch with some jam on toast. I’m thinking of setting a day when I can get it all over with at an exact time. Wednesday at 7 pm sounds good to me.
Finally, the mystery socks. They are a problem everywhere. They fall into cracks and crevices, flop out of baskets, and are mismatched time and again. I have three in my drawer I’ve never seen, and I appear to be missing a few, too… I might even go as far to say that the sock industry is reliant upon washing machines. To this issue, I see no solution. Trying to combat missing socks is like trying to fight the natural order of the universe. I’m just trying to keep an eye out for any socks, being observant when I take out my washing, and relishing in the abstract beauty of wearing mismatched socks.