We did some washing yesterday – two machine loads – but there must be something wrong with the machines. I realised this when I was putting away the dry, clean clothes and sat down to match the socks up, because – get this – all the socks matched!
And here I was, thinking that unmatched socks out of the washing machine was one of life’s constants, like gravity (which – though highly opposed in some quarters – seems quite immune to all petitions) or people’s inability to realise that if you let people off the bus first, there’ll be more room for you to get on.
Pigs may fly yet.