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May 12, 2003
Sock It To Me
When I was packing my one suitcase to last me the month before the movers would bring me rest of my belongings, I felt like I had some tough choices to make. Should I pack my gym clothes? What about my suit? Swim trunks?
Eventually I narrowed it down to one week's worth of clothes: seven shirts, three pairs of pants, seven pairs of underwear and seven pairs of socks. That would mean I would have to do laundry once a week, or risk not keeping any friends for more than a week.
After my first week in Redmond, I was shocked to find that three of the seven pairs of socks I had packed had holes in them. So I went and bought three new pairs, and threw the holey ones out (don't worry, this story gets more interesting).
A month later my stuff arrived, including the clothes I left had behind. I found all my old clothes, plus some clothes that once belonged to my late grandfather that my grandmother gave to me before I left. I started unpacking, putting socks and underwear in the top drawer, shirts and sweaters in the bottom ones. To my surprise, the top drawer filled up quicker than the rest, so I moved underwear down a drawer, and kept unpacking. A few minutes later, the top drawer was full again, and I still had socks to unpack. Annoyed, I threw all the socks into one box and counted them.
Just the day before, I was lamenting my lack of footwear, but now I was cursed with 47 pairs of socks. I could now go a month and a half without ever washing socks! Where did all these socks come from? I know I didn't have 20 pairs of my own, and surely my grandfather didn't own 30 himself. I think the movers might have packed my entire family's sock drawers with the rest of my stuff.
I've since spoken to the landlord about paying for extra storage space to house my enormous sock collection.