late bloomer

Stories, musings, and pictures… a little bit late.

Socks

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When I was a little girl (young enough that my mom dressed me, but old enough that I probably could have helped) I had anxiety over socks. If the seam that went across my toe knuckles didn’t lay just right I ended up in a tizzy before mom could even pull her hand away. Today I just wear my socks with particularly irritating seams inside out.

Oddly enough, this:

0119130730

does not bother me. Not one bit. Sure those socks don’t match, but my discerning feet can’t tell the difference and my eyes don’t care. However, I would never make a matching pair out of these socks while doing laundry. I’ll give you a couple of reasons why.

1. Clearly, they don’t match and therefore don’t belong confined by wimpy sock elastic in my sock drawer.

2. I don’t take the time to match pairs of socks when I am folding laundry. The gratification of making an acceptable pair at the time of getting dressed must thrill me more than the efficiency of putting them away in an organized fashion.  Besides, no where on my dresser does it say “Sock Drawer: Couples Only”.

There actually is a little bit of method to this madness. For instance, I couldn’t wear socks of differing lengths or elasticity. That would just be crazy.

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