The Sock Gap Part II
Whereas Tonto seems to be quite attached to his socks, I have a hard time keeping track of mine. Even though I regularily add to my sock collection in lieu of doing laundry, they keep disappearing.
Although I'm not religious and definitely not superstitious, I must confess that I am a firm believer in sock elves. I am convinced that both my my old and my new apartment are infested by elves -- that like to steal, construct nests out of, and munch upon -- my socks. I don't have proof of this per se, but I cannot come up with any other reasonable explanation as to where the hell my socks keep going.
Inevietably, when I'm getting ready to run out the door, already late for some meeting or appointment, I cannot find a pair of socks that match. I can find one of the grey and red strippy socks, and one of the pink socks with white cats all over them that my mother sent me for Christmas last year, but it is nigh impossible to find two socks that go together.
So sometimes, I wear socks that don't match. Usually, I at least try to find two of remotely the same color, or at least two that do not clash, but sometimes it is difficult to maintain even an ounce of proper sock decorum.
But that's okay, because no one ever sees your socks, right?
Wrong, at least in Sweden.
I understand why one must take off one's shoes upon entering someone's home, in order to avoid spreading gravel, snow, and salt all over their lovely, and freshly polished wooden floors, but I find it a tad over-the-top when gyms, dentists, and doctor's offices request the same thing.
Yesterday, my physical therapist was witness to the pink polka dots on one foot and solid black on the other. Really, it was quite embarassing, despite the fact that she assured me, "Really, I'm not even looking at your socks. I'm concentrating on your knee. Really."
It's not that I'm color blind, I promise. I blame it on those damn sock elves.
Although I'm not religious and definitely not superstitious, I must confess that I am a firm believer in sock elves. I am convinced that both my my old and my new apartment are infested by elves -- that like to steal, construct nests out of, and munch upon -- my socks. I don't have proof of this per se, but I cannot come up with any other reasonable explanation as to where the hell my socks keep going.
Inevietably, when I'm getting ready to run out the door, already late for some meeting or appointment, I cannot find a pair of socks that match. I can find one of the grey and red strippy socks, and one of the pink socks with white cats all over them that my mother sent me for Christmas last year, but it is nigh impossible to find two socks that go together.
So sometimes, I wear socks that don't match. Usually, I at least try to find two of remotely the same color, or at least two that do not clash, but sometimes it is difficult to maintain even an ounce of proper sock decorum.
But that's okay, because no one ever sees your socks, right?
Wrong, at least in Sweden.
I understand why one must take off one's shoes upon entering someone's home, in order to avoid spreading gravel, snow, and salt all over their lovely, and freshly polished wooden floors, but I find it a tad over-the-top when gyms, dentists, and doctor's offices request the same thing.
Yesterday, my physical therapist was witness to the pink polka dots on one foot and solid black on the other. Really, it was quite embarassing, despite the fact that she assured me, "Really, I'm not even looking at your socks. I'm concentrating on your knee. Really."
It's not that I'm color blind, I promise. I blame it on those damn sock elves.
posted by Curiosa at 11:58 PM
8 Comments:
I with you on this one. There are actual sock elves at work in the world. I´ve lost about a million socks to them.
And they never, ever take a whole pair.
The´re evil I tell you, evil.
My simple, albeit maybe not very stylish solution is to almost exclusively wear plain black socks.
That way I don't even know if the socks I wear are in the same configuration they were purchased, or if they have randomly paired up amongst themselves in the confines of my laundry basket.
Of course, if you insist on wearing polkadot socks, then you're on your own, at the mercy of the sock-eating dryer (it's not an elph, it's a Kenmore...)
Den här tron har vi i min familj också, och jag är dessutom övertygad om att strumpalverna är i maskopi med tvättmaskinstillverkare. I smyg har de monterat en liten lucka i varje tvättmaskin, samt ett alarm som sätter igång så fort strumpor tvättas i maskinen. Då hoppar minst en alv in från ett annat mystiskt hål, öppnar strumpluckan och drar ut minst en socka, ibland så många som tre, naturligtvis från tre olika par. Frånsett att jag, precis som David, har börjat köpa bara svarta strumpor åt min dotter, som råkat värst ut, så önskar vi oss små tvättpåsar i julklapp som vi ska stoppa in varenda strumpa i för att skydda oss mot dessa strumpväsen.
I had Anticimex spray for sock elves (lat. Sockus Magicusawayus) and have since had no problem with disappearing socks.
david, that would be a good solution if my mother didn't persist in sending me "funny" socks for all holidays, birthdays, and sometimes just because. i only resort to the polka dots when i have run out of the black ones. then its a choice of polka dots or dirty, and the polka dots inevietably win.
Actually, maybe I can shed som light on the whole sock phenomena. On a trip through Lithuania I came across this sock exhaust that appears to lead from within a hill.
The clothing seams to have been spewn up from the ground through the exhaust pipe and out on the grass with some force too. My theory is that this is the exit portal of the secret world wide sock dimension, and the final restingplace of all socks lost in the world, which for some reason more often than not are the left ones. Or it's just where the sock elves leave what they don't need.
Miss C -
In light of the subject matter, you may enjoy this:
http://mysite.wanadoo-members.co.uk/padleywood/2003_archive.htm#April%202003
The book from which it is taken, "We Are Still Married," is one of Keillor's best.
/Rydberg
Ack. I see that blogger seems to truncate plain-text URLs. Let's try that again...
Here's the complete link.
Serves me right for not using the preview.
/Rydberg
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