Yes, sock. Not socks, which ironically would be better, but one shrunken sock. You see, I’d been scrupulously ensuring that I washed Mr B’s Mini Mochi socks on a 30 degree wool cycle because I was concerned about them shrinking. It’s not the most convenient thing to do as I usually favour the “bung everything in and wash at 40″ method and only bother to separate white and dark colours. But I started having a once or twice weekly wool wash for all Mr B’s socks and Rose’s knitted clothes so it wasn’t too bad. Until the weekend and when I was rushing to bundle a dark washload together, a sock managed to sneak its way into the pile. Possibly hidden up a trouser leg. And this was the result:
It’s like cardboard. If it was any stiffer, I could use it as a sock blocker itself. The other sock which escaped the machine is fine, but unless Mr B suddenly develops a rare, foot-shrinking illness, or only ever has one cold foot, he has a pair of unwearable socks. Socks knitted from a not inexpensive yarn which I was on a waiting list to buy. Socks which took forever to knit while I was perma-feeding a tiny baby. There may have been swearing. 
So it’s back to Trekking, Regia and Opal 75% wool sock yarns for this household. I will never again be swayed by pretty colours, no matter how much they taunt me. I am immune. 
