“Never put a sock in the toaster” is excellent advice from
Eddie Izzard. But sometimes I must admit
to being tempted to do just that. It’s
the truth that my absolute favorite thing about spring and the coming warm
weather is that I don’t have to wear socks, wash socks, match socks or, most of
all, listen to complaints about someone’s favorite sock going missing. Socks have been the bane of my existence
since the day I got married and started doing someone else’s laundry besides my
own. I don’t think I need to mention any
names here.
Personally, I tend to be a traditionalist about socks. Most of mine are black or white because they
are easy to match up and I can wear them even if they don’t “match” precisely
as long as I have long pants on. But I
do like brightly colored socks. I just
don’t manage to get to the Bright Sock Store…ever. When my socks seem to be
running low having been eaten by the dryer or when they acquire too many holes
in places that make them really uncomfortable, I just pick more up in the
supermarket.
I think that the very best advice I’ve seen on the Interweb
about socks is from Jerod Kintz. He said,
“I soak my white socks in coffee, so I can wear them with brown pants and keep
my feet from falling asleep.” I may just
decide to do that one of these days. I
need all the help I can get.
My daughter Carrie, on the other hand, is most
definitely a bright sock person who has never even been too particular about her
socks matching. I call it Serendipitous
Sock Syndrome but I don’t think it needs to be treated medically. I actually admire SSS in a person. Carrie recently brought me a bag of her old
socks that are orphans or have holes in strategic places. Those colorful socks will eventually be
stuffed with organic catnip and made into catnip toys for some discerning cat
or possibly a designer cat bed, giving these colorful old tubes a new lease on
life.
 |
| Last year's selection of catnip toys and an upcycled cat/dog bed designed primarily by my friend Diane O-J and made in last year's colors. |
Carrie does knit but I don’t think she has tried
to make socks yet. If she ever did, this
story might just be about her: A
policeman spotted a woman driving and knitting at the same time. Driving up beside her, he yelled, “Pull
over!!” “No,” the woman shouted back, “a
pair of socks!” Actually, Carrie is a
very careful driver. Just because she
suffers from SSS, it doesn’t mean she would be careless with knitting needles.
But I know that most of you have lost socks in your laundry so
you can, like I can, relate to this quote by Rod Schmidt: “I washed a sock. Then I put it in the dryer. When I took it out, it was gone.” My friend Kathi Clayton is a notable exception
to this law of nature and claims to have never lost a sock in the laundry. I think she needs to go on tour and explain
exactly how this has happened. What’s your secret, Kathi? People would flock to
her lectures. She would be the next big thing and would be able to buy
socks made of silk and cashmere woven with gold. My guess is that socks like that would get lost. What self-respecting dryer could resist gobbling those up?
Enough about socks, already! I would say that it’s about time to put a sock
in this blog post. But I ran across this article
written in 1979 by the incomparable Erma Bombeck. Apparently she asked that people let her know
their theories on the cause of socks going missing and this is what she found
out:
Most
of the writers zeroed in on sex. Like
coat hangers and paper clips, socks were believed to have an active sex life –
but only in water. Some believed they
married, but they fooled around and often divorced in the dryer. No alimony was involved. Some stayed together through two or three
washings, but suddenly turned into a swinging single. One writer believed that socks went through a
sex change, coming out another color.
A large number embraced the
Planned Obsolescence theory, that is a conspiracy between sock and washer
manufacturers who incorporate sock disintegrators (right next to the button
crusher) and sock sensors which grind up a sock and spit it out as lint. The newer models even have a reconstructed
sock cycle which returns a sock lost five years ago.
There was a Sock Fairy theory
for those of you who believe in Peter Pan, the Cloning theory where for every
pair of socks an extra one is cloned driving you crazy with three socks of one
color, and the Best Friend theory where your friend is secretly after your
husband and both are trying to drive you whacko. There is the Reincarnation theory where it is
believed that a sock returns in another form.
(One woman swore that after five years of losing socks, they all came
back one day as a sweater.)
Some believed socks had an
identity crisis and split. Others leaned
toward cannibalism. One writer went for
the Steve Martin theory where socks, instead of getting high on detergent, got
small and disappeared.
A great number believed socks to
be a migratory species, activated by simply adding water.
And finally, one writer blamed
the United States government for programming washers to eat socks and keep the
economy alive. One blamed the Russians
for undermining American women’s stability.
I’d have been disappointed if someone hadn’t said that.
My last words on the subject are that I’m just
glad my dogs can breathe.
