You spot a tiny hole in one sock as you are pulling it on. You do what? (thx @romellex!)

You spot a tiny hole in one sock as you are pulling it on. You do what? (thx @romellex!)

Of course, you know your wife is going to say, “Throw those away.”

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Since 90% of my socks are the same color (black) and brand (Dickies), I throw the one with a hole out and match the good one with another “orphaned” sock.

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Who darns socks any more??

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Old woman, old woman,
Will you darn my stocking?
Speak a little louder, sir,
I’m very hard of hearing.

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The last option seems very reasionable and a good idea to plan for but who am I kidding, I’ll still wear them most likely :rofl:

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I do.

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I’m guilty. One little hole doesn’t slow me down. When both socks look like swiss cheese they get a last wash and then become dusting mitts.

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If the hole is situated by my big toe which it usually is I will wear it then cuss the rest of the day because my big toe broke free and now I’m choking down there and can’t do anything about it cause I wore the wrong outfit to be able to go bare and suffer until I get back home to wake my big red toe and throw that darn sock out, Bahhaaaaaah!!!

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I’ve never had a hole(y) sock. I must be wearing them wrong.

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Just a little hole, wear it at least one more time and then out it goes.

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Wife initially thought I was crazy when I darned socks with an old light bulb… then she embraced my crazy and bought me a nice wooden darning egg.

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Been a long time since I did it.

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Depends on where the hole is: if it’s by the toes, immediately thrown on the trash; if it’s anywhere else, continue wearing! I’m also notorious in my house for only throwing away one sock and then having a weird pile of socks without partners. :woman_shrugging::woman_facepalming:

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I remember my mom teaching me to darn socks on a black darning egg.

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correct

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i think you mean, those DAMN socks on a DAMN egg

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When I get a hole, it is not darn I say!

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I must be weird: With an evil smile from ear-to-ear and a happy gleam in my eye, I plunge a finger into that hole and brace myself for the impending pleasure. The fabric makes a wondrous tearing sound as I rip the unlucky sock into two pieces feeling not a second of remorse. Its mate now fears its potential upcoming fate while a review of orphaned survivors from the clothes dryer is undertaken, all the while knowing that should a suitable new partner not be found it will be knotted and doomed as a dog toy for the rest of its sorrow-filled days…