Thursday, January 24, 2008
Sock It To Me
When She Of The Townhouse gave me socks for Christmas, I sensed that a certain stage had been reached in our relationship. Nevertheless I persevere.....
The footwear in question had a higher purpose. Over the weeks since the festive season, things have been complicated. You see the socks in question were labelled with the days of the week. At first I thought that this would be easy. If the day was Monday then you fished out the socks with Monday written on them, wore them for a day and then bunged them in the wash. And the next day you picked up Tuesday, the day being a sock related update of the previous one. So on and so on. I am sure that even a child could get the hang of it, and for someone as shamefully over certificated as yours truly, well surely such a concept is child’s play.
Is it bugger!
Within mere days the socks had performed a shuffle reminiscent of the pea under one of three thimbles. By the end of the first week I was finding it hard to remember what millennium we were in and I just couldn’t match the socks to the days no matter how much sweat or intellect I expended.
And (lap it up Miss Beckwith) then the great Moo Moo stepped in. I was getting ready for work last Monday and my personal deity revealed one of the wrinkles in the universe that comes every now and then to a Newton, an Einstien, or a Hawking. There I was, desperate to fit the socks to the day and all the time I was starting out wrong footed.
I picked up the nearest pair and in a flash realised that, in accordance with their legend, it would be so much better if it was Saturday again.
From now on it’s the socks that will determine the day and not the other way round.
Some of them are going to be recycled a lot more quickly of course.
Miss Beckwith? She was the Venus who taught me English when I was eleven. Never let me begin sentences with ‘and’.