I spent almost twenty dollars on socks yesterday. Obviously I didn't spend it all on one pair.
I got two pairs! Okay I know that still sounds crazy, but you have to understand that they were 50% off. So while I spent nearly $20 on socks, I got nearly $40 worth of socks.
That didn't make it sound even a little bit less crazy, did it? Well who knew eighteen dollar socks even existed? But I promised I'd buy myself good socks for a change and... and I spent eighteen dollars on two pairs of socks.
Oh dear. I hope I'm not stupid. I try so hard not to be.
The package says they were developed for the military. Knowing military budgets, eighteen dollars is actually rather cheap for a pair of socks. That's their average per unit cost on a post-it note. It also said they had, um, advanced sock technology for... I think a better overall sock wearing experience of some kind? Or something?
Oh no. I am stupid, aren't I?
These better be good socks. Wait wait wait right there let me qualify that! These had better be good socks by my definition only. By my dog's definition they better be terrible socks.
There's a reason I'm always out of socks. His name is Max.
After every spring thaw I find roughly 4-6 socks in the yard. Max carries them out there. You can just get rid of any charming images of a happy dog bounding playfully into the yard with a sock hanging out of his mouth right now, though.
Those socks did not drop out of his mouth.
I don't understand the appeal! At first it was just socks out of the hamper. He'd go rummaging in there while I was away. Charming. He misses me, and obviously my dirty socks smell more like me than anything else in the house. Cute. He loves me so much he wants to eat my stink. I'll just have to make sure to bury them a little deeper in the future.
Okay, that didn't work. He ate two tea towels and a wash cloth to get to them. Less cute. I'll just have to keep the laundry basket in the kitchen, on the other side of the doggie gate.
Now why is he eating clean socks, for heavens sake, and how did he figure out how to open my sock drawer? Yes, I'm asking you, cats.
So the sock drawer is blocked off behind a trunk now, the laundry basket's in the kitchen, and he still manages to get his daily recommended servings of sock more often than I care to admit. Sometimes I am careless and take my socks off when I'm somewhere other than in the kitchen. Sometimes the phone rings between taking clean socks out of the dryer and barricading them in their secure repository. I also have to let him through the doggie gate to go outside, and sometimes he manages clandestine visits to his beloved laundry basket while I stand flapping my hands like signal flags trying to navigate my more blind than not little sixteen year old dog through the large gaping hole in the wall that leads to the yard.
Sometimes I fall into a deep sleep wearing two socks and wake up wearing one.
It's not that the dog's smarter than me. Not much, anyway. It's just that he has a lot more time to devote to finding ways of getting my socks than I do to finding ways of keeping my socks away from him. While I'm busy running around trying to manage our household and the career that finances it, he's spending the day on his doggy bed calculating the what correct angle for startling a sleeping cat in order to knock the best pile of laundry off the dryer is. I've had to resign myself to the reality that there's pretty much only one place in this house that is completely safe for a sock to be.
That's why, should you ever drop by and decide to grab yourself a snack, there are forty dollars worth of socks in our refrigerator.
12 hours ago