I am from The South, People. With capital letters and the whole bit. The South is a special place with special people and special words and special phrases. If
you're not from there, you can move there, but you probably won't fully GET us and our Southernness because on some level I think it's just in your blood. Or it isn't.
Like our sayings. My momma had one that I love. When she accomplished something good that surprised herself, she'd say, "Well, I'll be! Even a blind hog'll find an acorn sometimes!"
I use this term a lot in my day-to-day life because it seems I'm sorta stumbling around at times, just hoping I'll run across an acorn. And this week, the blind hog writing this post happened to do just that.
In my family, we have laundry. Not just SOME laundry. Think more along the lines of Mt. Everest if said mountain were comprised of dirty socks, underwear, and t-shirts. Six kids and two adults can produce a heckuva lot of dirty duds, let me tell you!
One issue we were having in particular was related to socks. If I have spent $1 on socks in the last year, I have spent $1,000. I was about to stop buying milk in order to begin a Missing Sock Fund. My "Missing Sock Bucket" was always overflowing, and we could never find the matches. The Shorties would bicker over whose no-show sock that was because no one ever seemed to have a matching set. Weary of the constant search for constantly disappearing foot underwear, I finally came up with a solution.
I bought each of my kids a $1.50, zippered lingerie bag. I tied a piece of ribbon to the zipper. (We color coordinate everything for everybody.) I gave one to every kid. I deposited a small, $3 laundry basket into the bathroom closet where we keep the dirty clothes baskets. I told every kid that when they take off their socks, they are to place them inside their own, color-coded bag. I instructed them to also place their underwear in the same bag before zipping it closed each day.
Now, when we do laundry, socks are in the bag of their owner. That bag goes from the washer, straight into the dryer, and then into that person's laundry basket -- unfolded and unopened. (The folding is up to the owner of the items. Because ain't nobody got time for folding 8 people's socks and unders!)
And if socks get lost because someone was too busy (read: lazy) to put them in the zippered bag, well... Big. Fat. Bummer. for you with your vanishing, missing, unmatched socks. Guess your feet will just be going commando until you find a matching pair. And THAT is not my problem. Maybe a blind hog can also stumble across missing socks sometimes!