Odd

I’ve been out these last few days, so took the opportunity today to catch up on some laundry. I’m quite lucky these days in that I get through sufficiently few clothes, I can get by with a launder every couple of weeks.

My bedsheet was a bit smelly, so I decided to wash that today. Strip the bed. Ironically, I also use the bed as a dumping-ground for freshly-laundered clothes, I generally gave up on anything fancy after the stroke. For the same reason, I don’t iron. Have you ever tried ironing one-handed? If someone looks at me and thinks dishevelled, what can I do? The people who know me, they understand.

Anyway, in order to strip the bed, I first have to divest if of its pile of clean washing. In amongst which, there are three odd socks. WTF?

When a pair of socks is dirty, it goes into the laundry basket. As a pair. Come wash day, they get taken from the laundry basket, as a pair. I check. Then on into the tumble dryer, as a pair. Finally, onto the bed. Each step, I check, so how come there are three bloody odd socks on the bed!

Now I could put this down to stroke. Quite plausibly, my eyes aren’t so good any more. But my wife says the same thing happens to her, and her eyesight is good.

The thing is, that I can never remember this happening before the stroke. I laundered for years, and don’t remember losing a thing! Maybe I just didn’t care so much about socks back then?

So I’m sitting here, wearing one grey sock and one blue. Well, I’m not going to throw the bloody things away, am I? I’m dreading tomorrow because one of my feet will be freezing! And, I’ve concluded that some sadistic sod has started stealing our socks! Come on, own up, it isn’t YOU, is it?

Author: Mister Bump UK

Designed/developed large IT systems, interrupted by a stroke in 2016, aged 48. Now mix development of health-related software with voluntary work and writing. Married, with an estranged daughter.

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