I was downstairs doing the laundry right now and was reminded of an amusing story.
I hate doing laundry. I hate folding it. I hate putting it away. So I don't pay much attention to what I'm doing when I am folding it. As a result, I often come home from work to find one of my socks, tossed unceremoniously on my bed, obviously by Brian who found it mixed in with his t-shirts. One day I came home to find a pair of panties hanging from one of the bathroom light fixtures. OK, Brian, I get it. I have to pay better attention to what I'm doing.
In fact yesterday, I took my car to Jiffy Lube and when I got back in after they vacuumed it, there was a black sock covered in pine needles placed on my passenger seat. I started laughing, at the thought of the sock being stuck to my pants and falling off in the car, and how long had the sock been stuck to my pants to begin with.
Anyway, one time a few years ago when Brian was working at either Pinnacle or Ward, he was walking through the office when he noticed something down by his feet. There was something dark sticking out of his pants leg. He shook his leg and one of my black socks popped out on the floor. He snatched it up and shoved it in his pocket, looking around to make sure no one had seen. When he got home, he threw the sock at me and said, "Guess what I found coming out of my pants leg today?" I started howling with laughter, and those of you who know me, know how hearty that is. As I doubled over, slapping my knee, he went on, "I do NOT need to pack socks! And I swear, if a pair of panties EVER comes out of my clothes, I WILL hunt you down, and kill you."