Socks are the bane of my existence. More than bills. More than tub mildew. Maybe even more than my ex-husband.
We literally have millions of unmatched socks in this house. They hide under couches and beds. Stray ones lay near the laundry basket in the basement. And I am pretty sure that only 4 - 6 of them actually match.
My mother is obsessed with the sock problem. She can not stand it if anyone's socks are not perfectly clean and perfectly match. It doesn't matter that any two socks are approximately the same shape, size, and style. They have to clearly be a matched set.
In the winter, when your socks are under your jeans or pants, as long as they're the same texture and color, I just don't see that perfection is required.
And she hates my solution to the "whose sock is whose?" problem: I put all the socks in a laundry basket. If a child recognizes a pair of socks as his or hers, he or she is free to take them out and put them in his/her room. Otherwise, if you need socks in the morning, you look in the basket. This drives her crazy. Of course, most of my house (and my life) drives her crazy. But that's another story.
One of these days we will finally have no socks at all that match, just a pile of odds, I will have no choice but to take the next logical step:
Buy more socks.