A long time ago…
in a galaxy not so very far away…
even from the very beginning...
my husband and I have had a peaceful and joyous marriage. As is true with any young couple just starting out, during our first year of marriage it was sometimes a little puzzling, even a little shocking at times, to learn all the intricate little details about my beloved’s likes, dislikes and habits. It became sort of a game with us to gently tease each other about objects and behaviors which defined our comfort zones.
Well, in my husband’s particular case, he likes socks. I mean, he really likes socks. The man has two dresser drawers overflowing with socks, and yet one of his oft-repeated sayings is, You can never have too many socks! He gets them for Christmas every year from his mother. He kindly takes in the cast-off socks that she’s given our brother-in-law, too. He treasures socks with fraternal, maybe even paternal devotion. I’ve never seen him throw a pair away. I have to sneak grungy or threadbare ones into the garbage when he isn’t looking. He likes the white tube socks. He likes the big thick wool socks that I call his Lumberjack Socks. In the winter, he loves to wear silk socks, alone or beneath other socks. He likes his conservative-colored churchy socks for worship. He loves his socks so much that if What Not To Wear offered him a new wardrobe in exchange for his socks, I’d be willing to bet money that he’d flatly refuse the deal.
While doing research a few years ago about my hypothyroidism, I stumbled across the website for the School of Natural Healing. In my studies of Dr. Christopher’s teachings, I learned of his dislike for synthetic fabrics. He advocated the use of natural materials like wool, silk and organic cotton, especially for children and pubescent youth. I couldn’t afford much at the time, but knowing a little bit about reflexology and the lymph system’s drainage connection to the foot, I decided to start there. My darling, my dearest foot-covering aficionado, was totally supportive of my plan. So I invested in my first pair of Birkenstocks for the benefit of the natural materials from which they are made: leather and cork! I also surfed all over the web trying to find organic socks. I found Wintersilks and I found SOS From Texas.
In addition to their socks, SOS From Texas. makes a lot of other neat stuff, especially T-shirts. So I bought a couple dozen socks for myself – size Small – and a few shirts. Knowing that my husband’s love language was Sockajawian, I also purchased a couple dozen socks for him – size Large. After all, HE was the one with the mantra, and I knew he’d know how much I really cared. How could I have known that I would start a war of Hellenic, no, intergalactic proportions? SOCK WARS. Dear Reader, kindly insert read-along George Lucas theme music here.
Perhaps I was the one who started it. I am a post-use sock Rebel. Having had it drummed into me during my years in the Empire of my safety-pin-wielding mother, I glory in the luxury of being an adult and NEVER having to pin my socks together! HA!!!! However, this leads to problems once the laundry is clean again. I’m the one poking around trying to find a matching pair, while my meticulous husband, Sir Hosiery, Gallant Jedi Knight of Shodfoot, Defender of the Barefooted Realm, breezes through this little ordeal by always tying his dirty socks together once he’s through. So… sometimes I swipe them when I’m in a hurry. He always knows when I’ve done that though – pointing out how my slipperless actions soil and mar the formerly perfect white sheen of his tube socks.
Imagine how shocked I was, one day, to discover that my cute little organic socks somehow felt LOOSE and STRETCHED OUT! Talk about an assault upon a fetish! My socks must be snug so that I might have the relief of taking them off at the end of the day and hanging my bare feet out of the covers all night… whereupon I can draw them back under the blankets and put my freezing cold feet up against my poor long suffering husband. When I asked him about my socks, he freely confessed. He’d run out of his SOS Socks. , having only that couple dozen, and started to use MINE.
Despite his overflowing wardrobe, the SOCK WARS saga continues to this day. I swipe his, and he swipes mine, while the jilted mounds of poly-cotton non-SOS-From-Texas socks weep silently in their darkened drawers. While he can’t bring himself to get rid of them, they’ve definitely fallen from grace. I think it’s time to place another order with the organic sock Alliance . Maybe I can get Yoda to help me lure him out of the house long enough to stuff the Undesirables into garbage bags and speed off to the dump and back.
SEPTEMBER 2012 UPDATE: I was woken up out of a sound sleep this morning by a rather upset husband who couldn’t find a pair of matching socks without holes in them and as of right now, issuing the demand that I cease and desist having a box for unmatched socks because he was TIRED of digging through it! Well… I knew he needed new socks, but after that little rude awakening from Sock-Meltdown-Man, drastic steps had to be taken this very day else he might just have a heart attack from sock angst. I’ve put my money where my mouth is. Once again, I’ve ordered socks from SOS From Texas. Hope 18 pairs are enough for the poor guy. May the fuzzy footed force be with you.