This Socks

I'm not naive and I don't live under a rock. I've heard of this very thing happening. Here and there. Sometimes on Tuesday. I know it happens. But it's never happened to ME.

You might argue that's it's because of the way I live my life. You might be right. Who I sleep with. Where I hang my hat. Who are we kidding, if you really knew me you'd know I sleep IN my hat. No way I'm losing THAT.

Socks is another beast. Or maybe a small sacrificial lamb. And somewhere in my abode is a nasty, ravenous Sock Monster who eats Sock Guy for snacks. Not only that, it follows me. From City to Country. Country to City.

My dwindling sock supply is not locationally challenged. This has never been a problem for me. I've never sacrificed a sock before. I've seen it on teevee. I've heard the old wives tales. But never once have I permanently lost my fuzzy foot covers.

 

Until now. Now it's a good day when the dryer spits out TWO perfectly matched SmartWools. It's like winning the lottery. Kenmore Keno. And Luck is not my Lady tonight.

 

In the country there is a cat. Maybe two I'm not sure. But they carry these things around like a two year old's teddy. But I collect and congregate them. And engage in round of the childhood game Memory Match.

 

That's not it. There is something seriously eating these things like pop tarts. And it's not just mine. Now Sock Monster is eating the girl's socks too! So if you see me at an event or cruising down the street PLEASE don't mention that my socks don't match. I KNOW, but I'm running out of socks!