My socks and issues

The other day I ended up with half a dozen mismatched socks stuffed up my shirt like some sort of crazy jon and kate plus eight freak sock pregnancy. Roe v Wade v Chris v Me. It was painful.
I have a bin for socks and a bin for underwear but do not have a bin for tights, slips, bathing suits, etc. Every couple of weeks I decide that these items "belong" in one or the other bin. I shove them precariously in and then spend the next few days dismantling all sense of organization by tossing tights, leggings, etc back and forth between the bins trying to find the favorite pair of socks at the bottom of the bin 'til it's all a mess. I live with that mess for about 2 weeks, then pour out the bins and start all over again. I had this great idea the other day to get a THIRD bin for my miscellaneous items. I'm a freakin' genius.
So, it would happen, that I loose socks quite often. And the other day, while packing up my clothes, I gathered together my mismatched socks with loving care. I just couldn't, COULDN'T throw them away. I heard the yurt tell me: "Eliza, you are NOT to pack mismatched socks in the moving van." "Oh, but yurt," I replied, "I won't pack them! Its not that I want to save mere, mismatched socks (though the guilt will rack me), let me just keep them until I move out!" " }:( ," said the yurt.
Please understand. Maybe if I explain myself it will help. Imagine this horror: what if, just think, what IF I threw out all the socks. Put them in a bag and took them to the dump. THEN I pack up my bedroom, move my bed and THEN find the missing socks. Lying there, saying "Here we are! We were here all along! Did you forget about us? Why did you never search for us? Don't you like me?" And then I'd have to THROW THOSE SOCKS OUT. How could one do that to another being? Thinking about this causes my throat to swell up and I start swallowing quickly. That is obviously the worst.
Just plain loosing one of the socks is still pretty miserable. I think of that great gray pair with the silver thread running in circles around the edges. My mother gave those to my in my christmas stocking one year. And I just loose one of them? What does that say about my love for my mother? And then I have to relive that guilt double - throwing away its perfectly useful twin? In the trashcan? I might as well throw my ma in the trashcan.
Think of it this way - would you, upon losing your car keys (which I did this week), throw away your car? Oh, might as well have it towed, you say to yourself. Or, upon not being able to find your car in the mall parking lot, just toss the keys in the trashcan and hop on the bus? No, how silly! Neither can I throw away a perfectly good sock while there is still hope of finding its pair! Obviously!
So these thoughts were running through my mind as Chris tried to snatch the mismatched socks, poor orphan, mismatched socks, singular instead of double because of MY carelessness, and throw them in the trash. I couldn't let him. I shoved them all up under my shirt and doubled over to protect them from his clutch-y, grasp-y hands. He didn't seem to understand the obvious - only upon moving, clearing out your house entirely, are you able to throw away those mismatched socks. Duh.

Um. I packed the mismatched socks. It was kind of an accident. I'm sure I'll throw them away when I get to the yurt. Yurt and Chris will not be pleased...