Thursday, January 26, 2012


I can roughly separate my socks into two broad categories- white and black. (That sounds like a town from 1960's Mississippi- a veritable tinder box of racial sock tension. You probably imagine the drawer containing the black socks as a sad sort of ghetto next to the underwear with a broken handle and tracks which do not slide smoothly. My socks are totally racist because they say that we should never mismatch white and black socks. It is so racist that they describe such a combination as a "mismatch." My socks are not very enlightened. I think on the next MLK day I'll make a point of mismatching, their word not mine, my socks to teach them a lesson. I'm like the Abraham Lincoln of socks. ) However, I digress, within each category, black and white, there exists various subsections. Tube socks, quarter socks, varying shades, designs, socks with holes in them, socks without a mate, etc... Most days I wake early, before the rest of the family, so quite often I find myself trying to put together a matching pair using only my sense of touch. The task has become difficult enough using my sense of sight. The result is that I often wear mismatching socks- at times I have unwittingly managed to create some forbidden, unholy combinations.

Well, I have had enough of this. I'm throwing them all out and starting over. I'm going to buy all white quarter socks, and a package of tall black socks. I would feel bad about throwing away some perfectly good socks except they're totally racist. 


Rocket Surgeon, Phd said...

You need a sock chute.

Anonymous said...

Don't you be coming down here, boy, and tellin us what to do with our socks. That's a good way to get yourself disappeared. Watch your step, young man. Watch your step. You aint in Vermont.