Intersock

OK, so I’ve done the washing. Nothing to it really. Ignore the dials and bung it in.

 “Anything I can do today?” I ask sotto vocce as I’m eating my muesli and she’s going out the door.

“Yes, you can sort the socks” Slam.

Damn her Vulcan hearing.

OK, well I’ve got half an hour between Everybody Loves Raymond and the Jeremy Kyle Show, so I grab the huge pile of socks off the drier, and put them on the kitchen table.

First sort: my socks, her socks. My socks are all exactly the same. All black, all the same size, shape, pattern, characteristics, behaviour, common haunts. If six of my socks were in a police identity parade, there would be no cry of “that’s 'im officer, I’d recognise the bastard anywhere!”

They are also much larger than her socks, so I separate them out, pair them up. 5 minutes: done.

Second Sort: her socks. They are all blackish. Or brownish. Or dark greyish. All plain, no patterns. The tops are subtly different, as are the heals, the shape, the texture, the material. I first try to sort them by size: all the same. By colour. Ah, here are some brown ones, but tiny differences in shades. Aha! Here are two socks 

exactly the same shade, but hang on a minute: the elastic at the top is subtly different.

I try to sort them into some sort of common piles, but the piles keep on getting smaller and more multitudinous.

Christ on a bike: this is ridiculous. How does she shop for socks?

“Can I help you madam?”

“Yes, I’d like an assortment of socks picked at random from that large sack you have over there.”

“Certainly, and how many socks would madam like?”

“Oh, any prime number above 50 will do”

“And how many different colours?”

“Oh any prime number over 10 will do.”

“A wise choice madam. Can I suggest our ‘They Look The Same But Not Up Close’ range?”

Finally I have the socks sorted into piles of matching socks. 29 piles, one sock each. Don’t socks come in pairs? Where the hell are all the partners? Is there some sort of international sock matching organisation? Intersock?

“Lieutenant! You know that Ladies Pringle Tiffany Cerise Plain Trouser Sock?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“We gotta match!”

“You’re shitting me. Where?”

“Found in the second drier near the back of the Ulugbek Medrese 24 hour Laundrette in Samarkand!”

“OK Johnson, let’s saddle up. I want the Learjet prepped and on the tarmac in 30 minutes. Let’s go get that sucker!”

I’ve got to get out more.