I have 12 new pairs of socks that I'm never going to lose, and they all fit crappy. Where do you buy socks that don't suck, where the elastic at the top isn't too squeezy? Not at Target, that's for sure. I bought 2 perfectly preferable pairs at Gap once, and I have a pair and half left, worn thin and ready to burst. I even bought some different kinds at Target thinking surely they couldn't all be bad. I'll be sending the 6-pack of squeezy athletic-y ones to my sister who has smaller feet than me, and is athletic-y. The longer ones that are just squeezy at the top (and are the exact same sock size as the other kind) I don't know what to do with. What I do know is that I am back to square two, for at least I have a damn mesh bag to safely stow whatever future footwear I may manage to procure. Ooooh, by the time I get this all figured out, Winter will be over, and socks will be on sale? But Lord help me, I even bought a bunch of sock in China once, IN CHINA and they fit better than these! AND I STILL HAVE A PAIR OF THOSE!!!
Needless to say, I may need to revisit this blog title. This whole stupid sock thing is completely representative of my life, specifically of me trying to manage...everything really. I keep trying to make things as normal and easy as possible, and it's just not possible. Life is an atrocious hassle, I still hunt for any socks at all, and for food that doesn't hurt the kids, and for balance between migraine meds, and for energy to raise the kids well...But there are still socks on my feet, be they old, mismatched (or was it matched?), borrowed, or all three. I definitely feel crazy, and as it turns out, nut particulate still occasionally makes it into my house.
There are times I regret claiming the free piano off the curb in front of a neighbor's house. The jury's still out on whether it will ever stay in tune, it takes up a lot of space we don't really have, and I found a peanut shell in it the other day. And if I didn't have it, I wonder if I would have invested in a keyboard, something with a volume switch, a headphone jack, and not prone to hiding death allergens. If the piano stays in tune it will earn its keep, for on the nights I crave wheat and chocolate (ie: all of them) I need only a handful of carob chips and the smell of a freshly tuned scale to help drag me out of the trenches. 11 months into a wheat and corn free life I still haven't figured out food, Sasha's stomach has started getting upset again even sans dairy, my socks STILL mock me, and it sure seems like life only gets harder every year. But let them mock me who may, while I play the piano for a day, a week, a couple of months before it slips out of tune again. I'll have a migraine by then anyway.
Then it will make one hell of a gorgeous bookcase. And through a migraine daze I will stare at my pretty converted piano/bookcase in my old, borrowed, mismatched socks. But today I played a tuned piano. And it was awesome.
No comments:
Post a Comment