Originally published at
Lindsay Eland dot com. Please leave any
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I love socks. Especially when I first slip them onto my tootsies and they feel warm, and soft, and comfy-cozy-fuzzy. Then, it’s time to put them in the wash. I toss them into the laundry basket excited for the time when they’ll come out of the dryer warm and soft and comfy-cozy-fuzzy again. And they’ll both come out of the wash together, right? Where else could they go? They are inanimate objects after all.
Or are they?
Perhaps they are more than just…socks.
Perhaps there is a side of socks that we’ve never thought to imagine.
I fear that all socks have a darker side to them…and not just on the bottom where they get dirty and worn…a darker side. You know what I speak of.
Once they are tossed into the laundry basket, their evil desires awaken.
Ah, those formidable foes of the laundry, those sly little articles of footwear. The pair of them speak silently to each other in the basket. They give each other a secret handshake, and then slink off to unknown parts of the house.
Oh yes, one of them is always found. Oh yes. If they disappeared completely, well then, maybe we would know of their treachery. But no, just one sock secrets itself away in a place where no hand can reach and no eye can see and no flashlight can illuminate.
The renegade sock peeks out from it’s place in the shadows and laughs. It winks at it’s partner who gets tossed aside in frustration. “Now where is that other sock?” Oh, they love to hear those famous words, words that to them hold the same relish and delight as “Let’s watch Pride and Prejudice and eat the chocolate cake I made this afternoon” holds for us.
And then the evil pair meet up amidst the dusty darkness and stalk us in silence. Watching…waiting.
Okay…perhaps I’m wrong. Perhaps I’m over-reacting and my imagination has run away from me again.
Maybe that pair of blue running socks are really what they seem: just plain, inanimate…socks. Innocent, cozy, warm.
But I think not.
I think there is a darker side to socks…