A couple of weeks ago, we suffered three cold, rainy days in a row-rainy like downpour as in “someone who shall not be myself needs to get the wet-vac out and get to sucking out the basement!” I curse home ownership and the useless knowledge of wet-vacs cramming my small and limited brain like an inflated airbag.
During those three days of wet, Mother Nature shouted, “THE AUTUMN DOTH APPROACH! DO NOT BE CAUGHT OUT LIKE YOU WERE LAST YEAR WITHOUT PROPER ATTIRE FOR YOUR CHILDREN, YOU IRRESPONSIBLE COW!” Mother Nature can be such a whore. So, I did some damage online and prepared for the temperature snap that will hit us all unawares.
Socks. How I loathe socks. I think I despise them so much because I’m the laundress of the household, and socks are such a waste of time and space. If we lived in a hot climate, I would have no socks and an entire drawer available to me for tank tops or fancy lingerie or secret things. But what’s more, I wouldn’t have to sort, match or fold ever again. I wonder how many hours I would get back if I tallied all the time it has taken me to sort socks over the years. I wonder how many hours I would get back if I stopped thinking about the amount of time wasted over socks. Writing this entry alone could have given me the time needed to, well, write another blog entry.
Every season, I lose countless single socks breaking up perfectly happy pairs. How long do I keep these abandoned singles before I come to terms with the fact that their mates will never return? And now, I have kids with similarly sized feet, so I have to pay close attention to which socks belong to whom lest I inadvertently end up binding Asher’s feet with Levi’s socks.
Don’t worry. I DO hear myself. I’m out of my mind over socks. That’s how much I loathe those cotton tubes of torture.
And, in a fit of madness I broke down and did the unthinkable. For years, I’ve thought of buying them. For years, I imagined what a difference they would make in my laundering life if only I had them. I resisted. But then, I caved. I’m officially my father and owner of a collection of sock holders. What’s next, pocket protectors? No, it’s not as bad as all that primarily because I don’t wear shirts with pockets. But I do have my eye on some Earpops.
I know that sock holders will not eradicate all that I dread about winter. Pale skin, eating my body weight - at every one of the 5 meals I manage to consume, short days and cold, long nights. We have one more last hurrah weekend to go this Labor Day. The weather forecast indicates cooler temperatures but still warm enough to call it summer. I will not be packing socks.