My father always washed his own socks. He considered them private, and hed have never dreamed of asking my mum to take care of themhed have thought that was humiliating for her. He made sure his socks and underwear were spotless and cared for, always.
Things were quite different in my own household. My husband had absolutely no intention of washing his own socks. In his mind, it was pointless to do them by handanyone could just throw them in the washing machine and hang them up to dry afterwards.
That’s just how we lived our lives. But recently, I missed the moment when he ran out of clean socks, and suddenly it was all my fault!
Long gone are the days when socks used to be darned; its a lot easier now just to buy a new pack. If I see socks with enormous holes during a wash, I chuck them straight in the bin. Turns out, hes left with very few pairs that are actually whole.
If your socks made it to the laundry basket, I told him when he complained, Id wash them. I cant wander around the house, peering into every nook and cranny for stray dirty things. Anything that needs washing should just be put into the laundry basket!
Its your job to make sure Ive got clean, ironed clothes, he answered.
So apparently, his socks were now officially my responsibility. No one had ever made me aware of this division of duties before. Its funny how family habits and expectations sneak up on you, isnt it?
