I am considering under going therapy.
Proper lying on a sofa talking about my childhood therapy.
For you see My Friend, I am becoming completely OCD about …. Socks!
Yes, you read that correctly, SOCKS!
I have always had slight OCD tendencies, the toilet seat has to be down, I can obsess all day about if I turned off my straighteners. I can also go upstairs three times to check the same thing.
Sorry folks it is true, I am crackers.
I manage to keep most compulsive tendencies hidden from those I love and work with lest they tie me up and bundle me to the nearest asylum for a full check up and a meeting with the electric shock machine.
However, at this moment I am struggling, because of socks.
I think the wily young socks of “Southfork” are playing mind games with me.
Yesterday, I went on a full out sock safari across our three bedroom semi and found socks in the following places
1) 1 in the garage
2) 2 in the kitchen, not matching
3) 3 (2 matched) in the dining room
4) 4 (unmatched) in the lounge, 2 under cushions and 2 under the sofa
5) 3 in the bathroom
6) 4 in the bedroom
7) 6 in the little bedroom
8) 1 in my handbag
22 socks in total spread across our humble abode. Strangely, only 1 (my handbag, left over I believe from the big move) was mine, the rest belonged to The Chap.
So I have a few theories
· I am commencing the slow descent into madness
· The Chap is concerned he will loose his way in Southfork and learnt from Hansel and Gretel how to start a sock trail to the stairs and beyond
· The Chap mistakenly believes that socks should have a free range life. His socks are free to roam and gather dust, as close to their wild ancestors as a domesticated sock can get
Of course I could mention my sock obsession (fetish??) to TC and politely ask him to remove his socks and place them in the washing basket. However, such hopes are for the childish amongst us who still believe in fairytales. Besides which, I really am curious where I will next locate a piece of foot attire. I just find the whole thing a little perplexing. Similar to his reaction when he catches me spraying the shower down (after showering) with shower spray, or when I think it is a good idea to wash up directly after eating and not leave the dishes to soak for 24 hours.
Of course The Chap, has possibly guessed as I sat on the sofa yesterday evening pairing his socks and pronouncing all future sock purchases must contain either a coloured heel or toe or prominent logo to make pairing easier. His stated solution is to throw all single & unpaired socks into his sock drawer and he would just pair them of a morning. This of course is similar to his theory of ironing. 1 shirt per day needs to ironed and it is perfectly acceptable to leave the ironing board up and out in the lounge 7 day per week, 24 hours per day.
Luckily, he soon subscribed to my philosophy. Abigail would do all the washing and ironing in exchange for not being expected to assist in any DIY Projects currently undertaken or to be commenced.
So I will continue to gather my socks and am thinking of a new feature. “Socks on Sunday”, where I feature the interesting and unusual places socks have been discovered during the week. Perhaps it could be interactive?
P.S. Please take all comments about The Chap in the vein they are intended. I love him dearly as (I hope, he does I !). For all my postulating in my last post on the dangers of spending at Valentine' Day. The Chap paid for our dinner out, gave me a lovely card, bought me a DVD and (this is the best) bought me a dozen velvety red roses. I have never been bought flowers by a man, and never ever red roses. I was thrilled and truth be told (shh don't tell TC) I cried a little upstairs I was so overwhelmed. Yes, they are ridiculously expensive and yes I am happy to just have him. But no-body will ever treasure their flowers as much as I treasure them. xx