‘I’m missing a sock off one of my feet!’
So before we start, please allow me tell you a little story, the story that inspired the title of this week’s YCBS.
One night about four years ago I landed at Alicante airport at a late hour. My son collected me and as it was so late I stayed overnight – rather than going the short distance to my own apartment.
Despite my grandchildren’s mother trying to keep them quiet next morning as they prepared for school around 0730, I was wide awake. ‘No, you cannot see Grandad; he is sleeping and he’ll be here when you get home from school;’ I could hear Lynne advising the brood of three. Cillian, the then five-year-old, was finding it hardest to accept the ruling.
Soon I heard the door handle move ever so quietly; the door inched open just wide enough for two little blue eyes to peer through. Surprise in store for my youngest grandchild for there I was sitting up in the bed. Caught in the act, Cillian had to think fast and come up with an excuse for waking his granddad. Then he delivered a gem; ‘Grandad, I’m missing a shoe off one of my feet!’
I thought of Cillian the other day after deciding to do an audit of the top drawer in a chest of drawers in my bedroom. We are talking about the ‘sock drawer’.
You would hardly believe the range and variety of socks we have here; some since Adam was a gosson. There are dress socks, walking socks, heavy working socks… just in case I might decide to do an honest day’s work again someday. There are lots of these teeny weeny sockeens that make it look as if I’m wearing runners without socks. I have Westmeath GAA socks, long socks, short socks, coloured socks and plain socks, woolly socks, nylon socks and a pair of socks with a maple leaf on each one.
You get the picture, and maybe you are thinking this guy is hard up for something to write about this week; but please bear with me. I have a huge problem… a huge and mysterious problem… and here it is!
How in the name of Jaysus, can I have such a percentage of odd socks in my sock drawer? To quote my smart grandson and his shoe; ‘I’m missing a sock off one of my feet!’. How can this happen? I have come home from places missing something but never, I swear, ‘missing a sock off one of my feet!’.
We just have one washing machine. Mrs Youcantbeserious wouldn’t touch one of my socks with a 40-foot pole – even after it being through the suds, so where can the other half of the odd socks have got to?
Starting from the beginning; I have never bought an odd or single sock in my life. They all come in pairs – so where does the odd one disappear to? I am now so paranoid that I count the pack of two socks at the checkout; holding them tightly in one hand as I do a ‘tap and go’, or a ‘hit and run’ in this case, with my free hand.
I have heard of twisted male weirdos who sneak around stealing women’s knickers off clothes lines. I am so desperate for an answer here to my sinking sock stock that I have to wonder if there is an equivalent or fetish female felon getting her kicks stealing my socks off the line. Every possibility has to be considered. I’ll show you my sock drawer if you like…
I have tried to pair up the odd socks with a comrade that looks closest, but it doesn’t work for me – even though I knew famous men like Garret Fitzgerald who regularly wore odd socks, and even odd shoes. No, Mrs Youcantbeserious would never allow that.
If any reader can fathom out a cure for my conundrum please let us know, as I am no closer to a solution. All that I can think of is that if any of you know a man with a wooden leg or missing a foot, I have enough single socks to see him out. Or if you would like a duster for either hand, I’m your man!
Sitting here on a hard wooden chair trying to figure what to do next isn’t helping. On the floor beside me is a nice pair of shoes. I have an almost new sock covering one pretty foot and the other one is bare. You see, I am missing a sock off one of my feet!
Don’t Forget
A newspaper editor’s job is to separate the wheat from the chaff and see to it that the chaff gets printed.