Sock It To Her

You know what my favourite part of any washing cycle is?

The bit where you unload the washer and hang everything up, only to find that there’s a freshly washed sock sitting in your cup of coffee.

Because that, apparently, is a thing.

Socks, it turns out, are very absorbent. You don’t really realise how absorbent when you’re only walking through a bit of water on the floor or accidentally standing on some snow knocked off a boot in winter.

But when you put a sock in a cup of coffee all bets are off. Socks are thirsty beasts.

It must only have been in there for about twenty or thirty seconds before I spotted it. But it was heavy with caffeinated beverage.

Luckily it wasn’t one of my socks. Because that would have been annoying. It was, instead, one of Carole’s trainer socks – so presumably they are more absorbent anyway because they’d be soaking up foot juice during sporting activity. But even so, for a tiny sock it sure sucked up a lot of liquid.

I did contemplate just wringing it out and hanging it on the clothes horse to dry, along with the rest of the non-caffeinated washing. I could, I thought, just feign ignorance. What brown staining? Well that is strange. It smells of what? I mean, that just seems unlikely – why would it smell of coffee after it had been in the washing machine?

I was also concerned about what would happen if Carole’s foot absorbed the caffeine through her skin. Would one foot become faster and more alert than the other? That could turn an ordinary run into a disaster, as she just went in circles as the imbalance in speed between her feet caused her to curve as she moved.

Or she’d just become more hyper than she already is. More perky. More chatty. More bouncy and Polly-Anna-ish.

I have never rinsed a sock so thoroughly in my life.