I, too, have a halfway house for unpaired socks. If i have an odd number of socks when i put away the laundry, the last one gets to check the halfway house. If it finds its sole-mate, they both get to rejoin the other socks. Otherwise, the poor lonely single has to stay there.
I’ve taken the obsessive-compulsive strategy. When I sort through my dirty stinky laundry before heading out to the laundry room, I make sure the socks are paired at that stage. Then, when I take it all out to the laundry room (I live in an apartment), I make sure they are paired before actually putting them in the washer.
When I move the clothes from the washer to the dryer, I make sure they are paired at that point. And when I take them out of the dryer, I pair them up at that point.
So if a sock is missing at any stage (rarely), I know exactly where to go looking for it.
Also obsessive/compulsive: When I buy socks, I make sure that ever pair is distinctive from every other pair that I buy or already own, so it’s always unambiguous which sock goes with which. Thus, the matching socks get worn equally often and will wear out together.
I’ve taken the opposite approach. I buy as few types of socks as I can, so that eventually the widows will find widowers to remarry.
This is also what I do. I have a very limited assortment of types and colours. This means that after every wash, they may be paired up with new mates that only look the same as the previous ones. But they don’t seem to know the difference and each reunion appears to be a happy and compatible one.
Wait so in your households missing socks are found? Huh. Never knew that could happen.
We executed the gnomes years ago.
Unpaired socks are cleaned and go back into the drawer — they go (or it goes) back into the drawer. They are gender neutral. If the partner is found, it is cleaned and put back into the drawer. The two are reunited and they can spoon for days or weeks until my feet get between them and say Okay that’s enough you two.
Never let a lone sock co-mingle with the general population in the underwear drawer. Imagine the re-found sock’s devastation when she catches her mate in flagrante delicto with the tighty whities.
I actually go one step farther. I tend to buy the bags of, say, six pairs of grey crew socks (or similar groupings) when I buy socks. Then, anytime one sock goes missing or gets religion (becomes holey) the remaining singleton goes into the holding pen to await getting reunited with its temporarily displaced partner or paired with the next available widow/widower. When that gang of matching socks drops below a certain threshold, a new gang is purchased and introduced into the mix.
I do a similar thing, with black socks.
If it really bothers you…Sock Locks.
Would she do somethong drastic?
Uggh!
I buy multiple identical bags of socks, and those are my only socks. I don’t wear dress clothes, so all I have are white socks. There are no pairs. They all just go into the sock drawer. Any sock can be matched up with any other sock (they are all poly-socks-ual?). When enough of them wear out, I replace them all with new bags of socks so that again they are all identical.
When sorting laundry, I don’t have to spend any time at all matching up socks. They all just go into the sock drawer. If one went missing, I probably wouldn’t notice. I would have to go through the sock drawer and count socks to see if I ended up with an odd number.
Mrs. Geek and I have separate laundry hampers. I occasionally have a sock that makes a break for freedom by hiding inside a T-shirt but my socks (or any other clothes) never manage to jump the wire and end up in Mrs. Geek’s territory or vice-versa. Keeping them separate makes sorting faster and easier.
Certainly it happens: when you have an unmatched sock for a year or so and decide that you must have thrown the matching sock away because it had a hole in it so go ahead and throw this sock away–suddenly that long lost sock turns up.
I can’t remember where I read that they’ve fallen into space-time wormhole, and eventually emerge from the other end as navel lint.
I thought that everyone knew that washing machines eat them.
I’m not accusing anyone of anything but Zaphod Beeblebrox does have a lucrative second hand sock business.
You mean what is going on in that drawer is an orgy? That will change what I feel when I put that pair on tomorow for sure.
Perhaps I should go back to my old habit of wearing unmatched socks again. Gives the other socks more… possibilities.
Liberals…geez.