Only a marketer could do this to us. Lure us into buying 25 different “styles” of black socks. If I had to do it all over again I would have loaded up on one style. And then when they started to die – load up again – on ONE style. But it’s so hard to do. Think of the wall of styles you’re accosted with at any decent store. All of them individually displayed on their cute little hangars, with a thin piece of tissue stuffed inside so that, like a dog, you are enchanted by the sound of the crinkling. If you did want to load up on just one style you would look like a hog. Destroying the display by leaving a gaping hole and a lonely silver post where the lovely socks used to be.
Last week I gave up matching my black socks. I’m done. Now I just reach in the chaotic drawer and grab two. After all, 50% of the sock is covered by my shoe and the rest by my pant leg. Who cares?
I guess it’s because I’m getting older and realizing that life is just too damn short to sit on a Saturday afternoon squinting, holding up socks in the natural light, laying them side by side, checking their textures to make sure I get exactly two alike to marry. And then the disappointment and mounting frustration of the stray socks.
I’ve noticed that I have more and more of these since I got two dogs……hmmmmm…….someday I’ll find a bounty of black under my fridge. I’m sure of it.