I give up.
With down time after the holidays, we pulled together every dirty sock we could find. Baby socks under the car seat, husband’s socks twisted in the sheets at the bottom of the bed, random socks under the couch, socks left tucked in shoes, the bottom of the diaper bag. Every sock hiding spot was checked and every stray sock I could find was gathered. All in hopes of finally dwindling our mismatched sock pile.
But I give up.
After matching all the socks I could possibly find, I still have a large pile of mismatched socks.
I am finally convinced that the dryer eats them.