Sock it to Me
by Marian Brooks
I can find my
husband’s socks just about anywhere. Once I
found a pair in the lighting fixture in our
bedroom. When I asked how they got up there,
he explained that he was getting ready for
basketball season. More often they’re on the
floor wherever he stood or inside a solitary shoe.
Whatever happened to the mate of that shoe has
its own tale to tell. Some of the socks are past
due for a proper burial in the trash. The dark
socks never make it to the laundry basket. They
seem to have a very long shelf life. He can
always wear them again the next time we go to the
movies. I think I’d better stop complaining
about the socks before I find one in my mouth.
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