The Sock Drama

THE SOCK DRAMA

There are always socks. In the laundry, in the clean clothes hamper, miscellaneously in a clean pile of clothes on the floor... ok so I'm missing a dresser and a closet... I can even find once-worn-once socks fairly easily so I never think there will be an issue with finding socks.

I have a morning routine, even though I am on disability, I still have to have a routine. I got exceptionally busy this morning and was trying to get ready for a therapist appointment. I am one of those people that has a thing about being on time to appointments. I loathe being late with a firey passion. So I'm usually always early and I always have a book with me so that no matter what, I am entertained at all times. Because there is a very active draw bridge close by, train tracks, traffic, waiting for appointments, waiting for Godoh, you know the deal.

So I'm all ready, I grab my bag, my wallet, my keys and then... *insert dramatic music* ...the sock drama begins. My clean clothes pile that's close by, downstairs where the clean clothes hamper is, two of them, back upstairs to the dirty clothes pile, and then to the doesn't quite fit pile (which is getting smaller thank you very much), and look there's a pile under all this stuff pile...

No socks. I am running late now. HOLY HELL ME... RUNNING LATE, fricking hell... And there, just like little Cindy Lou Who herself had found a matched pair and handed them to me at the bottom of the last pile... five different single socks that were nowhere near matching later... two, perfect, clean, black socks, waiting to be found. *insert hallelujah chorus*

I put on my socks and my punk rock skull shoes and rushed out the door with toasty feet!!!

I was on time too!

The End.