Monday mornings are challenging around here because my teenaged sons like to sleep over and watch their favorite shows late on Sunday nights. Meanwhile, I have to get up early and get to work, never an easy challenge at my age and stage of life.
In any event, today my alarm rang at 6:30 a.m., and as I showered, shaved and dressed, I started thinking about socks. Old socks. Every piece of clothing I own is old because I've barely spent a cent in years.
That is going to have to change soon, for professional reasons.
But when it comes to socks, I have certain favorites. They are the few gray socks I own. I have black, blue and gray socks only. But the gray ones are the ones I feel most comfortable with.
Today as I was pulling on one of my chosen old gray socks onto my left foot, it tore open a small hole in the heel.
Now I used to sew up such holes, but I no longer have the dexterity to sew, so I knew today would be the very last day for this fine old sock. His final day has come; tomorrow, when I take him off he will have to go into the trash.
The sadness of that has stayed with me throughout the day.
But many other much bigger happiness and deeper sadness have occurred since, rendering all of this silly. Still, I miss that old sock!
-30-
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