I am further fascinated by my seeming inability to discard old, used and familiar articles of clothing. A while ago, I wrote about saying goodbye to my very ratty sweatpants that were tattered beyond socially acceptable. Now I am faced with having to overcome my reluctance to throw away old Smart Wool socks that have clearly seen better days. Thusly, I ask myself, "What is it about these old socks that makes them hard to throw away?"
To which, I have to logical response.
There can be no logic to my inability to part with socks that have lost their cushion through repeated launderings and that are so thin in key places that, instead of the standard greyish appearance, the spots are bluish in color, a clear indication of 'wear-out'.
My attachment to these old socks is so illogically strong that I've been doing my best to think of new uses for my old socks. I've toyed with turning them into hand dust-mits, but just how many dust-mits does one person need? Especially one who hates to dust? I also considered using the old socks to put my hot curling iron in when traveling, but I only have one curling iron and six old socks. Buying and carrying five more curling irons with me, when traveling, would be lunacy........but then is it not lunacy to be unable to part with six, old socks?
As the beginning of a new year approaches, I am struggling with finding sock logic. Actually, any logic would be useful, some days. Before Christmas I always refer to the season as 'Holly Daze'. It would seem that the holly has passed, but not my daze, or haze, or whatever it is that is clouding my reason. Perhaps, my Number One New Year's Resolution should be to part with six socks.
That seems logical.
Ancora imparo
