Fall of the socks

The cool breeze. The changing colors of the leaves. The angry skies. The smell of burning wood in fireplaces. Flannel sheets tucked warmly on the bed. Daylight Savings Time cussed about in line at the coffee shop. Teen aged girls are fully covered, wearing sweater and furry boots. The smells. Starbucks peppermint mocha is back for a 'limited time'. I think I like fall.

Except for the socks!

During the summer husband wears sandals (without socks of course, I already won that battle) and during the fall makes the transition to socks and shoes, but not one pair of socks, no. Husband wears two pairs of socks during the winter... Which means, not only more laundry, but more for me to pick up.

When husband arrives home from work, he sheds the first pair of socks. These usually land on his side of the bed, the foot of the bed or on top of the laundry hamper. Never IN the laundry hamper. The second pair of socks linger on his feet a little longer, they make it through supper and coffee, but depart during TV time. This second pair of socks almost faithfully land on the corner of the couch.




So apart from the dirty stinky socks all over my house, I like fall. UGH.