Birds, Bees and Some Naughty Laundry

I was once again grumbling over a hill of dirty socks, per usual. 

The sweat was pouring down my face as I wrestled the darks and roughed up the whites. The teetering laundry pile was far higher than I had seen it before. I had been working on it all morning and barely made a dent. I surmised that the clothes must have had their way with one another because the rate in which it multiplied was maddening. 

It was true, some laundry mating must have occurred.

And, I knew what I had to do.

I needed to find the Pappa of the bunch and promptly send him to Dr. Snippity Snip.

I dug and I dug, finally finding what I suspected to be the culprit.

He lay there, immodestly clinging to a pair of lacy panties.

A pair of flannel boxers, fly open wide, he was.

I grabbed him by the waistband and said, “No more fun for you, Pal!”

He responded with surprise, “Hey, lady, I was just getting to first base!”

I marched out to the garage and opened the trashcan.

He started to squeal. “Why you raining on my parade? What did I ever do to you?”

I looked him in the fly…er…eye….before saying, “The work around here is never ending! You and that funny business in the laundry basket are making me old before my time!”

Then he started to soften a bit. “Ah, doll. I never knew. How about a little foot massage? I can fix you up with a pair of athletic socks.”

I gave him another look and began to succumb to his charms.

“A foot massage?” I asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” he assured me. “I’m in good with the whole sock crew. I can make you feel real good, little lady. “

Before I knew it, that rascal had convinced me to bring him back inside to continue with his date with the lacy unmentionables.

And, now, I’m sitting here with a single, one eyed, unmated sock named Gladys rubbing my feet while I listen to the laundry pile writhe and moan.

Kinda makes for an interesting afternoon.