Socks.

I like wearing socks. I do not, however, like matching/folding socks. It was one of my least favorite chores as a child, and has not improved in my standings lately. My mom knows I do not like to sort socks. My dear husband has found out in the past year and a half, but really, I think it happened within the first month.

Perhaps that's why I embrace patterned socks wholeheartedly. It's so much easier to match a black with red and white polka dots to another black sock with red and white polka dots. Much easier than say, an accumulation of nearly 14 years' worth of black military uniform socks in various stages of fading, wear, and holes.

Just thought I would share. Oh, and can you please ask my husband to stop whistling the theme song to the most depressing show ever, M*A*S*H. Please?