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Sock Impaired

I have some serious sock issues. All is not well in the land of the sock drawer, you know? Today, the socks I’m wearing keep trying to escape. If I didn’t keep pulling them up, eventually they’d be bunched in the toe of my shoes. Annoying? You bet!

I currently have three drawers dedicated to socks. One for whites and tans, one for blues, browns, greens, basically any dark color that isn’t black. And then one for black. That probably seems excessive, but what you don’t understand is that some of those socks date back to a kinder, gentler time, a time when I used to wear sneakers and jeans to work. A time when I didn’t have a kid. A time when I used to eat Doritos for lunch and not worry about it making my breath funky because who would notice?

I have a bunch of socks with no mates, and instead of throwing them out, they stay in a little pile because you just never know when the mate will show up, and if I have thrown out sock A, then I’ll be in the same boat with sock B, thinking “I know if I just hold on to this the mate will show up.”

I think it’s time to dedicate myself to cleaning out my sock drawers. I’m going to get rid of most of the white ones because after a few years, they aren’t really white any more anyway. I’m going to get rid of the faded ones. I’m going to get rid of the ones I haven’t worn in over two years. I want to make that commitment to you, dear reader. You deserve it. You deserve a Jody who is not in constant sock crisis.

God Bless America and the Cotton Council.