Sole mate

March 3

“Sole mate”

There is a basket in my basement that holds the single socks of lost mates.  
I have never been able to figure out the black hole of socks,

and so I gave up searching years ago - too much wasted time.
I also am loath to waste a perfectly good sock, hence the basket.  

My children now joke about this basket.  My middle daughter uses it when she comes home, because she

always forgets to bring socks, and the idea of wearing mis-mates appeals to her.  The cats often sleep in it.
I think they like it too.

I starting thinking about this as I was doing my son’s laundry today. He comes home from college with a

plastic tub full of laundry.  I am proud that he knows how to sort and start his laundry. However, he is not so

good at folding. I, on the other hand, have come to look at folding laundry as a form of meditation, so I gladly

help.  

We have purchased the 12 packs of black and white Nike socks because they all match and they are all the

same size, thus the elimination of matching worries, right?  NO. Turns out there are all these slight

differences: some with red clay stains on the soles that won’t come out, some with a slightly different weave,

or are slightly bigger, and so I still am trying to match each one, according to its own unique quirks. I laugh at

my determination.  Throw that one away, put the stray in the basket. It will find a mate someday, and in the meantime, it’s a nice pillow for the cats.