The button popped out as the whirling sound faded along with the clanks and rattles of tossed zippers and clasps. A blast of heat escaped from the open door. Hot clothes tumbled into the waiting basket.
It was the one task in the house that we (my sister, brother, and me) helped on whenever we heard the familiar buzzing sound of the dryer. We became good laundry folders as we shook out the loose lint, tucked in the sleeves, rolled - not folded - the towels, and balled up the socks. Then we dutifully carried the full baskets to our respective bedrooms and dumped everything into an untidy mess on the floors. The basket flipped onto its side as we cowered behind our makeshift forts and lobbed soft mayhem at each other.
Heck! Who needed snowballs? It did not even have to be winter to have such fun. Argyle missiles sailed from one bedroom into another, the checkered style causing cross-eyed, hypnotic stares as it took confused enemies (a.k.a. my brother and sister) by complete surprise. Knee highs were small fast balls able to curve around corners. Holey socks were the best fun, as we stuck fingers into the toe holes and chucked them with great strength like a javelin hurler. The sock would swoop through the air, smack the window or closet behind the enemy, and ricochet back as a sneak attack from the blind side. Whenever we ran out of socks, we had to run out into the hallway and gather up the misfired ones. Then we tried to scramble back to safety, ducking and diving with the balls aimed at our cheeks.
No, I am not talking about the cheeks on our faces. The other ones.
Even better, no body part was off-limits - not even our heads. When the battle ended, we never had to worry about black eyes or missing teeth or broken limbs. Maybe we might have a little injured pride. Yet revenge could wait until the next laundry day.
Can you imagine if we fought real wars with socks? We could subdue the foe with cottony softness.
Sock war. Fun for the young and old alike. Children. Spouses. Take a little time out of your day to toss a sock at someone. Laughter will ensue.
*Disclaimer: I really shouldn’t have to say this but...the blog owner will not be held responsible by any misuse of your socks that leads to injury (splashing your sock into a pot of boiling water), arrest (holding up a bank using a sock as a weapon), or stupidity (ramming your you-know-what up your mean boss’s you-know-where). Use some commonsense, folks*