Or it turns up three weeks later in a pillow case when you've thrown the other one out. Socks Law they call it. I am ironing socks in a wifely fashion. I am a martyr to his socks. They are flat and crisp and filed in his Sock Drawer under 'S'.
Life is in order.
Sometimes, tired of winning bread I dream at the window watch the haughty starlings winning worms on the wet lawn. My mother used to iron her towels.