I inherited the Plyushkin gene from my mother. Therefore, every time I pulled out of the washing machine another pair of socks, I did not throw it out, but stuck it in the box of the wardrobe, with everyone else. Well, there, maybe when I make a toy from the socks for a child. Or I will buy the same pair, and the machine will swallow one socks again - I will have a normal pair again.
So here. I was looking for a couple in the box yesterday. At least one. No matter how much she did, she could only find 14 (fourteen) multi-caliber socks. Psychanula pulled out the box and dropped all the contents on the floor. There were three pairs of socks. I don’t know why, but I looked into the hole left in the box. She found pairs to the remaining 11 socks and two other pairs not counted. As it turned out, the lower box was already the remaining 10 centimeters, and the falling socks did not prevent him from moving to the end. I’ll go and apologize to the washing machine for all the diarrhea it received from me.