The sock challenge

The sock challenge seems simple enough. Keep 5 pairs of socks together. The catch? You have to do it for more than one day. You have to do it for weeks, on end. You have to keep it and them together. They have to find their mate, again and again, after wash cycles.

One of the advantages of being married to a woman is that you get to share a wardrobe. In my marriage, I definitely reap the benefit of the shared wardrobe, which is a nice way of saying Jess has more style than me; more clothes, too. If I receive a compliment on an item of clothing (I rake them in), 97% of the time – Jess has bought the item. A quick note to my wife: Thank you, Jess.

The equation of the double wardrobe is complicated and works like this: Double the clothes (bonus!), exclusivity on shoes (Jess is a 5; I’m a 7) and half the socks (literally, only one sock of every pair is left). Technically, we share socks. Wait, share is the wrong word. Compete is a truer reflection. If you find a couple that are close on the same colour, for example both are light grey, but one has a black patch over the heel and toes – it is a victory. That’s a pair in our eyes. Most shoes cover those black patches – the socks become, to the outsider, indistinguishable. No one knows. But we know.

One of the quotes that plays on my mind a lot is, “the way you do everything is the way you do anything”. It pops into my head and when it does, I often think of the socks. And I think, if I can get the socks right, I can get other things that I struggle with right.

Cue the sock challenge. Today, Jess and I bought 11 pairs of socks. It’s an awkward number, admittedly. That gives us each 5 pairs of socks. That’s maths. The remaining pair is the darkest of the lot – a maroon-ish pair and shall be a floating pair. But back to the 5 pairs.

When I asked Jess who she thinks loses the socks out of the two of us, she said, “You”.

I laughed at the audacity.

“It’s you!” I shot back.

“You don’t know yourself then,” Jess said.

The smack talk has already started.

Jess then told me that she had explained the sock challenge to my mother – a woman that keeps her socks together. Did my mother offer support? No. She said she doesn’t think either of us can do it. She did, however, offer us a permanent marker to label the sock camps. (Soon a single sock with J will be floating around, no doubt.)

We bought the socks at 13:22pm this afternoon. 11 pairs remain. Jess, however, is the only one yet to wear a pair. Amateur.

The sock challenge will expose one of us. Or both. There is bound to be sabotage, excuses, probably theft along the way.

Here’s the one photograph for today. Pictured here, Jess, owner of 10 socks (probably the last day she will be able to claim the title) and Kit, sockless (she owns some, but tends to pull them off at the first chance she gets). Also pictured here – laundry.