I’ve determined my socks have serious commitment issues. They just won’t stay together. This got me thinking about why that is. Sure, when they’re brand new, they look so happy together in their crisp package, lying side by side, bright and full of promise of many happy miles together. But after a few times around the block, a few spins thru the wringer and some tumbles, both high and low, pretty soon, one of them is no where to be found. Its abandoned partner lies hopefully to the side while the laundry is sorted and folded, hoping that somewhere in the pile its elusive mate will surface. But after the last shirt is folded and even the dishtowels are neatly paired up with their matching washcloths, all that remains are a few mismatched socks, forlorn, at the bottom of the basket.
Like the Island of Misfit Toys, the Mismatched seek solace with their abandoned kindred. Even a left-behind pink footie can find solidarity with an equally abandoned purple one on occasion, though typically only acceptable in the dark. Unless the owner is too hung over to care or liberal-minded enough to make a statement and dares to wear them in the light of day… GASP! together! Meanwhile, their more footloose former companions are sometimes found hiding under the bed, behind dressers, or even behind the front door. Clear evidence of their desperate attempts to escape. The most rebellious sometime find shelter in an interior pocket of a gym bag or buried in the underwear drawer where no self-respecting sport crew should ever be caught.
Maybe they just like the rush of the constant spinning of the dryer and wedge themselves inside the drum to cycle round and round and round till they grow tired and eventually re-surface. It’s hard to tell what motivates them. It doesn’t seem to matter whether they are classic white cotton, or high end wool, they all do it. But is this really infidelity or simply an adherence to a more basic nature? Can we fault them for a desire for more? For the different? For the exotic? Hardly.
Are we no different? Do we not bury our true natures behind forced, companionable smiles, but inside, really think: I wish I was a sock…..oh, the liberation I would have THEN!? But we are not happy for long. Maybe that’s what differentiates us – our need for the perpetual search to be joined with a soul mate vs. their perpetual searching for more, more, more….alone.
This leads me to only one conclusion - there are no sole mates in the Footwear Kingdom. Think I’ll stick with flip-flops and avoid the issue entirely. I’m glad I’m not a sock. Aren’t you?
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