You can’t tell it to look at me, but I am quite the repurposer. I recycle cans, newspapers and discarded plastics like it’s my job.
Some might accuse me of being a hoarder, for if anything has a future use, in any possible way, I am going to save it. Waste not, want not? Why, those are just words for the wise.
That being said, you might be able to understand the dilemma I am going through regarding socks.
Although three of our four boys spend the bulk of their time at their campus homes and far away from their loving mother, their laundry comes to visit every time they do. And when it does, a bounty of smelly socks tag along for the ride.
While mating socks is certainly not an enviable chore — I put it right up there with scrubbing the tubs — it has become more complex over the years.
Back in the day, you had your Nike socks, your Adidas variety and the generic ones that we picked up during a desperate moment at the supercenter.
Mating socks was difficult enough. Then some bamboozler went and thought it cute to add a form-fitting band on the arch of the foot — not always, you understand, just every other package or so to keep you on your toes.
As if that weren’t complex enough, they decided to change it up a bit with left-footed and right-footed socks. That really made things interesting.
Socks come and go, but never in pairs. And at this very moment I have a bushel basket full of unmated footwear, destined to live out their years in a single lifestyle.
The saddest of all sock situations are the extravagant footwear variety. The top dollar, state-of-the-art, “Gosh, don’t my friends envy me when they see me sporting these on the basketball court?” sort of socks.
Man, they were living the dream. They had style, they had purpose, and they sported the team colors with pride — right up until the day they left their mate in a smelly locker room.
Socks whose mates went off to parts unknown and left them with a lonely existence aren’t the only residents in the aforementioned basket. No, sir — there are also the dreaded “hole-in-the-toes.” It’s not that I can’t hold a needle or lack a thread of ambition. It’s just that I never find myself sitting in a clean house, with the paperwork done, thinking, “Wouldn’t now be the best time ever to stitch up some toe holes?”
Therefore, sadly enough, into the old end-of-the-line sock basket they go.
There are many ways to repurpose socks, I’ll give you that. They are great for cleaning the blinds, they make awesome dust rags, and certainly a day of staining a piece of furniture gives old socks new legs.
One can use unmated socks for a makeshift iPod holder or a shop vacuum filter. And if a gal could find an attentive audience, she certainly could glue on some buttons and put on a puppet show.
That would sweep the fam off their feet. Sadly enough, I cannot repurpose old socks fast enough, and if I laid the bounty end to end, they would stretch a bazillion feet. Give or take.
Just last week, our Little Charlie was sitting on the couch and readying for his day. “Doggone it!” he suddenly called out. “What is it?” I asked. “I have a big hole in my sock toe.” “Just give it a toss,” I suggested.
“But it’s a good sock!” he replied.
“Want me to get you a needle and thread so you can sew it up?”
“Can’t you do it for me?”
“You bet, I’ll do it on my darning day.”
“You don’t have a darning day.”
“Well, you should walk a mile in my shoes, then you would know where I’m coming from.”
“Huh?”
“Maybe we can hire someone to do the mending and you can foot the bill.”
I’m sure he didn’t know what I meant and probably thought I was just dragging my feet. Yet, as I reflect on the moment, I realize that I was really thinking on my toes with that one!
Lori Clinch is the author of “Are We There Yet?” You can reach her by sending an email to [email protected].