The Difficulty of Concentration

There was a time when the sheer volume and variety of household chores were referred to as "nameless chores," and books were even published on the subject. I think "nameless chores" is a remarkably clever term that rolls off the tongue easily.

Works that humorously described these small, unnamed, and unnameable chores—regardless of how busy or slow things were—and presented them as relatable anecdotes or words of encouragement, gave courage to many people who handle housework.

The chores that make us laugh and say, "That's so true!" have a certain humor that only those who have done them can understand. It is true that at the time, they are frustrating and things you would rather not do, but when you wonder, "What is this chore actually called?" it is encouraging to think that there are people all over Japan doing the exact same thing.

In one of those works, the task of matching socks from a pile of laundry was named "Sock Concentration." While it sounds quite intense in kanji, it refers to the card game where you flip over cards to find matching pairs.

The task of pairing up socks is surprisingly time-consuming. You have to deal with socks that look similar in color but have different patterns, socks that have the same pattern but different sizes (for siblings), or even socks where one is missing entirely. It adds the task of searching to the task of folding.

I once received a comment on one of my posts about someone who only buys the same type of socks, and it left an impression on me. Since my own socks had started to develop holes, I decided to put that idea into practice.

When I searched online, I found that there was indeed a demand for it. I quickly found a six-pair set of men's socks. They were solid dark blue, a calm style of sock that would go with any outfit.

I thought that since they were all the same, any two would make a pair, making laundry easier. But then, I encountered an unexpected pitfall.

The socks I bought were "tabi-style" socks. They had a design where the space between the big toe and the second toe is separated.

While the color and size were exactly the same, they had a left and a right shape. Unless you match a right with a right and a left with a left, they don't form a pair.

One morning, when I was getting dressed and went to put on my socks, I found a pair consisting of two left-foot socks. Presumably, there was a similar pair for the right foot. When I told my wife, who had likely bundled them, she said, "Tabi-style is hard." I'm sorry.

Since I wear them every day, they are supplied as laundry almost without interruption. As a result, the difficulty level of the "concentration" game has increased.

I tried to lower the difficulty, but I ended up making it harder. The same thing would likely happen not just with tabi-style socks, but with five-toe socks as well. In that case, perhaps it would be better to have them in different colors rather than just one solid color.

#Socks #Housework