May 22nd, 2004

children of dune - leto 1

because this is just another day except not

Domestic Bliss

The sock situation has reached critical. I washed every sock in the house. There are fifteen matches and one hundred billion socks sitting in a pile, basically the apparel equivalent of abandoned by their spouses.

Strangely, it was the white ones.

We have a matched blue set that I bought around the time my son was born. We have, and this just scares me, my cheerleader socks, circa 1991. I ran across an inordinate number of trouser socks that I have never seen before in my life. I found, amongst other useless treasures, my APO frat pin, a set of keys that go to nothing that resembles a lock, and my basketball shoes from late 1992. They still fit. This was kind of a bright spot in the day, and really, that should tell you something.

More imponderables. And is that a word, or does it need an 'n'?

1.) Some sadist left my niece's talking doll beneath a pile of laundry. Every time you step, a spooky baby voice says it's hungry. Just *imagine* the ways that freaks you out around nine at night. And ask me how long it took to find out that it was a doll.

I'm telling you, X-Files fucked me up for life. I no longer automatically think, what is a reasonable explanation? I immediately think, that is a flesh eating monster that is going to kill me and eat me. Come on, remmeber that freaksome doll episode?

2.) There is some strange law that states, all my hose will have runs. All of them. Even ones I've never worn. Even ones that I don't own, that appear by magic beneath my hands when searching out those deserting whores of socks. And no matter how many are thrown away, there will always be a million of them. It's almost a reverse of the sock issue, which makes me suspicious that socks actually have some kind of life cycle that leads to runned hose. Maybe they eventually mature into unrun hose or something, but I'm not waiting to find out whether or not my laundry is sentient. They could mature into something that will kill me in my sleep, like, say, that talking doll, and who the *hell* thought this was a good idea to invent?

The sad part is, I bought that one for her. Like I didn't learn all I needed to know from television about evil toys. Grrrr. Stupid impulse buying.

3.) Thou shall never find matching sheets. This is a given. I've pretty much reconciled myself to a life with sheets that will never match. And never in complementary colors. Oh no, not my bed. We're talking flowery and neon green geometrics. This could explain why my bed sees so little action. Frankly, if I saw that in someone's house, I'd question their sanity and more importantly, their good taste and ability to color coordinate. I mean, you can live with insanity, just lock up the sharp objects and sleep lightly and armed. But there's no hope when their color sense is working against you.

4.) Underwear. I have no idea where it's coming from. His, not mine. It's a weird breeding thing with cotton and spandex going on somewhere, because I didn't buy that many, but we have two drawers full and I'm still stumbling over it when I go through laundry. It's frightening. I mean, convenient, but dear God.

I watched my niece today, one of those times that reminds me why I have kept a tubal ligation on the table as a possibility should ever a situation arise in my life that might lead to further progeny.

Because Children Are Strange and Evil, and Then There Were Breathing Masks
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I should drown my sorrows in chocolate or something. Or porn. *shudders* Maybe not.