I just folded 47 pairs of newly bleached white socks. I had 33 unmatched socks. Four discards. Even bleach and three washings in hot water could not remove the gray dirt from those four socks. The boys wore them outside on a muddy day and then peeled them off for a wet and soggy sock fight. They sat on the back patio for a week or two, until I finally remembered to retrieve them.
So, I'm not the Queen of the Clean Patio.
Frankly, I probably wouldn't even win the title of Queen of Socks. The Queen of Socks wouldn't be wearing her husband's socks because she couldn't find any clean ones in her own drawer. And the children of the Queen of Socks probably didn't have to tell her this morning that there were no more clean socks in their room.
Maybe I'll just have to be the Court Jester of Socks. I wonder if the Court Jester gets a tiara?