We all know and hate the sock problem.
You buy socks in pairs and somehow, over the course of washings one of those socks disappears. Now we all know very well that you put the socks in the hamper, after all what adult would leave his rolled up socks on the floor to escape under the bed. Which also might result in leaving the hidden behind as you travel. No, socks all go in the laundry basket. Then, somewhere between that basket and the washing and drying process one of the pair escapes.
After a while, unless you buy socks by the bag guaranteeing that your socks will have to learn to live with cousins so that you don’t need to bother about matching with proper mates. Sooner or later your luck will run out, but that could be months or years rather than weeks down the road. You can deal with the lone single sock then. Easy, peasy. Toss it out. But most of us wind up with more than the single orphan.
Today I found out there is an item worse than socks for going astray. Gloves. Specifically black gloves. When we were packing out, I carefully grabbed all the black gloves I could find and placed them safely on a shelf. While packing for the next month I decided that it just might get cool in Norway, Iceland, Canada. Perhaps I might like to bring a pair of gloves in case? Hats aren’t an issue; I can always knit another hat.
This is what I found:
yes that is right – three pairs. Five stray right gloves, four stray black left gloves and a grey one that was lonely and snuck into the stack. I went hunting in the hallway drawers and turned up another five solos. I also found underwear, socks, single mittens and a really amazing collection of cords. But no pairs. Think about it. These aren’t all my fault, it takes a family to lose 1/2 of fifteen pairs of gloves.
And now you understand why I refuse to knit gloves or mittens for my family.