I love coming to this blank canvas all full of the excitement of a new story that is bubbling in my mind, only waiting for it to spew forth and make people happy or sad or glad or even mad.
Unfortunately, I had to fold socks.
I HATE folding socks.
I so dislike the folding of socks that I will make special trips to Target, in search of more socks. I have gone through aisles and aisles of socks only to settle on that one special package of six ankle high socks that I love so much. Oh, some of you may call them booties, but I call them, uh, well, ankle high socks?
I love socks, I do not like to fold them. I think what I have left to fold are all mismatches, so I must go to Target, again. Pretty sure Jenni won't let me though, so I guess I better get back to folding, or something like that.
“A man is about thirty-eight before he stockpiles enough socks to be able to get one matching pair”