Socks

Socks.

White ones, black ones, grey ones.

A green one with a yellow stripe down it.

An extra black one.

John sighed.

He had never been a big fan of doing the washing when there was just his stuff, but now, with Elizabeth's too, he officially hated it! He really did.

The reason was not the trouble it took to put the clothes in, take them out and hang them. It was the socks.

They were always going missing! They never matched! He hated it so much!

Yup. Socks were evil.

He'd take paperwork over doing the washing any day.