Darn socks. See what I did there?

Hey now, I forgot I started this blog. I will probably forget again because that's what happens to me.

So, Mike's socks have been the bain of my existance lately. He hides them everywhere, under the coffee table,  the computer desk, next to the couch, shoved behind the leather ottoman. They are like little dirty gifts of love left all over the house.  The other day the dog was furiously pawing at something underneath the couch. I watched him for a few minutes thinking he saw a toy or hid something stupid like a used napkin. Being the nice dog owner I am, I got up and physically lifted up the couch for the dog. What was the thing he was trying to get  you ask? A sock, naturally. Mr. dog grabs the sock in his mouth and prances off with it happily to my bed. Ew. Later when I was watching tv, he climbs up next to me and lovingly lays it on my chest , nice and close to my face, like a beautiful, thoughtful gift. Except it wasn't beautiful, it was wet, and it smelled, and was kind of crunchy. Thanks dog.

This is not the first time this has happened, nor will it be the last. Seeing as the socks are always on the floor, the dog thinks they put there for his and apparenlty my enjoyment. I have tried to explain the concept of hampers to Mike after showing him 37 pairs of chewed up, wet socks. He does not understand. I mean, why would he when he can just go buy new packs of socks? They are dispoasable right? No one wears socks more than once, guess that was my misocnception.

Imagine this on draped sweetly on your face.

 This goes far beyond socks though, pants lay in the same place from where he disrobed, shirts cover the chair in the bedroom, towels are meant for drying on the back of the computer chair. It is as if the entire house serves as his laundry basket. There are times though, that he makes the attempt at picking his clothes up but for whatever reason  it always looks like he gets distracted half way through and just drops them on the floor in a pile. I am still not sure what causes this to happen. Like some force of nature stops him in his tracks and forces him to drop whatever he is about to do with his dirty clothes, unless of course it is to drop them on the floor. Never ceases to amaze me. What is ironic about this whole situation is that the man will not let me use mismatched hangers to hang my clothes in our closet. My hangers all have to be the same color, hanging in the same direction and need to look in his words "neat". Really Mike, really? Even now, if I have say, a hanger from something I bought at target in there he gets all "NO WIRE HANGERS!" I mean, he's not waking me up out of sound sleeps to re organize the closet but I can tell he wants to. " Why are these in here?" " what is this?" " get this out this is gross. Okay, mismatched hangers are a murderable offense but dirty socks and clothes strewn all over the house is adorable or something? Makes sense right?