So I'm doing the part of the laundry that includes socks. The dryer buzzes, and I start reaching in and pulling socks out one at a time without looking.
There are five pairs of insulated winter-type socks and my two pairs of fluffy fleecy purple sock things (one striped and one polka-dotted) that I like wearing around the house in the mornings because they keep the floor from sucking the warm right out the soles of my feet, they're all happy and Dr. Seuss-looking, and they're awesome for sliding around on hardwood floors.
As I grab a sock, I lay it flat atop the washer so that when its mate comes out, I can stack them and fold them together.
Today, the washer top was too small for this chore because, in defiance of mathematical probability, I somehow managed to blindly extract one sock from each pair before getting my first duplicate. I'm tempted to try and figure the odds on that.