I consider it a good day when I remove an even number of socks from the dryer. I always put in an even number, that I know. With military-like precision, I unroll each and every sock from the hamper and verify its mate before throwing it in the wash. But somehow, by the end of the drying cycle, something’s gone awry. There’s usually one, lonely sock.
I keep the single socks. What else can an optimist do? Admittedly, I have looked up articles like, “37+ Unusual Uses for Lonely Socks,” but I just wasn’t really in need of a sock puppet or golf club covers or windshield wiper cozies. I once made a cardboard box to go above my wash machine and labeled it “Sock Orphanage.” Soon, it was overflowing with socks, yet when I dumped them all out to sort them, none of them seemed to match.
One day, I realized that my husband, also an optimist, had been stashing lone socks on his side of the bed in a drawer. I gasped with such wonder and awe at this discovery, emotions not typically associated with socks. I ran to my own sock orphanage, and dumped the two collections of socks on the bed. I’m only slightly embarrassed to tell you that I nearly cried with joy that day. So many happy reunions!
Other than the isolated instance of the sock stash reunion, I mostly feel as though I lose just as many socks as I keep — it’s a little disheartening.
My teenagers relieved some of my sock sorrow when they discovered crazy socks. Their collection included banana socks and goat socks; socks with unicorns and hamburgers, flags, avocados, and even bearded lumberjacks. My son is especially partial to his salad socks. We’ve lost fewer socks since this tiny tweak. Crazy socks are funny. And colorful. Also, no one looks at you funny if you wear mis-matched crazy socks. In fact, mis-matched crazy socks actually seem to increase your status — if you don’t care enough to adhere to society’s rules regarding footwear, just imagine how much of a rebel you must be in other areas of your life. I mean, who’s to say you don’t buck convention and put the toilet paper roll on the dispenser backwards? Or, maybe you flippantly request regular milk – whole milk (gasp!) with your $7 latte!
But…I digress. I was talking about socks. There are entire stores devoted to crazy socks, and they are stores filled with whimsy and surprise and imagination. Even if I tried, I couldn’t come up with one single criticism of crazy socks. Their contributions to fashion only narrowly overshadow the gift they are to the laundering community.
What an unexpected place to find happiness. I know when people want you to be happier, they’ll say, “Things will start to look up,” or “Lift your spirits,” or “Keep your chin up.”
Nay, I say. Look down. Cast your eyes downward and look at your socks, whether they are colorful or plain, intact or riddled with holes. Each sock has a mate at the beginning, and yet they jump, Lover’s Leap-style, into the scalding hot waters of the Whirlpool without looking back. Each wash cycle is a risk, a plunge into the unknown; no sock is guaranteed its mate past Tumble Dry. But the ones who make it to the other side with their companion are an inspiration to us all. The poor crazy socks are completely oblivious. We can count on them to keep the party going, whether they have their mate or not.
I hope you find some unexpected happiness today. And may all your socks have mates.
