I'm talking about socks. Mateless, matchless socks that lurk in every drawer, hamper and laundry basket in my house. Loathe to toss the singles out, I see them lie in limbo, watching and waiting for their long-lost twin to reappear.
Some are pristine in appearance...their mate went missing almost as soon as their tags got torn off, and they have lived in a state of newness despite their actual age. Not having been worn much, they still retain their stretchiness and vivid color. Such a waste! Often, their mate is found galavanting with some other patterned sock, faded and loose with wear. Sadly, the two have grown apart, having lived such separate lives that they can never really reconcile.
Some of the lonely souls have been banished to the Matchless Bin: a basket specifically set aside for singles. There you will find the "Suddenly Singles" meeting up with the "Singles Again" and the "Swinging Singles." The Swinging Singles tend to be athletic socks who like to get around. A sock gets sent to this bin in the hopes of meeting Mr. or Ms. Right over time. I can proudly say that the Matchless Bin has been responsible for many happy pairings! How long they will STAY together is anyone's guess, but uniting two kindred socks is a moment to cherish. How sweet it is!
Fortunately for many of the mateless toe warmers at our house, it seems no one really minds wearing two socks of differing ethnicities. We are a non-discrimminating household, and don't make fashion decisions based on color or age. My children have turned my lack of sock organization into haute couture, proudly displaying pink and purple stripes on one foot, and green frogs on lilypads on the other. A tall sock (usually one of the Swingers) can be folded down to meet the height of an up-stretched footie. A dark blue dress sock can easily be mistaken for black if it is an evening affair, so no problem there. Wearing two different socks simultaneously has been known to increase the likelihood that something will match the rest of the ensemble.
Still, it bothers me that so many pairs have succumbed to splitting up in search of more excitement. Time in the Bin gives them a chance to see the error of their ways, and makes them realize their need for commitment. Staying together over the long haul is so much better than the single life.
The Matchless Wonders of the Bin must live in perpetual preparedness, always ready for the moment I might happen upon their mate as I pull laundry from the dryer. "Hey!" I might say. "You look familiar!" And I will pull out the Bin and paw through its contents like the widow woman looking for her lost coin.
In triumph, I will lift the Prodigal in one hand and the Deserted One in the other. A single ray of light will shine down as I join the two together with a roll of the toes and a fold of a cuff. I think I hear angel choirs.
Yes. YES! YES!!
Another happy couple, reunited. I'll sleep GOOD tonight.
