having been in a marriage for 13 years where i was responsible for every detail in the home (my all-time fave being that he would never put the bins out because 'i might not feel like doing it on a monday', wednesday suits me better), i have had the thunderbolt of realisation that socks are no longer the pinnacle of my existence. not so new DP is going away for a week and asked me where all his socks were. i feigned interest for about 30 seconds, and the thought fuck the fucking socks. i make the money, i pay the bills, i don't give a flying fuck about your socks. anyone else feel the same?