Of Socks and Bunnies

In the last eight months since I've lived here (Portland area condo), nary a sock has tried to escape. I've lived in the area for many years, renting in one place or another much to the chagrin of my undergarments. (The underest of them, anyway.)

I couldn't really blame them when I used a communal laundry. I imagine I would try to abandon my mate as well, were I a sock. The socks fared better in the condo we rented next but, for some reason, they didn't like living in the mother-in-law apartment that followed even though the laundry was not shared. (I didn't like living in that mother-law-apartment either so no fault can be found there.)

Here, the socks seem to be content tumbling away in a never-before-used dryer. Maybe that's all it was from the beginning - a need to feel special, in first place.

The dust bunnies, meanwhile, have unionized and I fear I doth not clean the house enough. Surely, when they ball themselves up and place themselves in clear view they are sending a message?

Perhaps it was the stray socks that kept them in line after all.

I shall contemplate a sacrifice.