my little weirdo

Ever notice how when asked about marriage, women commonly complain about having to pick up their husband's dirty socks? It's like some sort of universal word association or something. Marriage - dirty socks. I remember hearing that all the time when I was getting ready to get married. And then even after the vows were said, I heard it more. Many of my married friends of mine would talk (complain) about it.

I never knew if 'picking up dirty socks' was literal, or just a metaphor for saying the whole marriage idea sucks as a whole. Regardless of how many quizzical glances I gave them, I was never clued in. However it was intended, I knew for sure it wasn't a good thing. So as not to rub in their face that I couldn't empathize with them, I remained quiet. You see, I married someone who picks up his own dirty socks.. both literally and metaphorically speaking.

After 4 1/2 years of marriage things have changed. I constantly find myself gathering up Husband's socks from the floor and putting them where they belong. I find them in the kitchen, the guest bathroom, the living room. Everywhere. Everyday.

You'd think I would be mad at Husband, but I can't be. He's no more to blame for this than the homeless guy on the corner of Blackstone and Shaw. Instead, all blame is rightfully placed on the little person. She has figured out where Husband keeps his socks and she frequently gets into them. Her socks are too small to get on by herself, mine are kept too high for her to reach, but Husband's are just right.

Here is a visual example of what I mean. Also note, she was fully clothed with hair done just moments before this was taken. She has a style all her own. Her favorite beanie, pink bloomer things from a skirt, and socks. The little weirdo.

She was showing her muscles for the camera.