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Sock it to Me
by Marian Brooks

I can find my husband’s socks just about anywhere. Once I found a pair in the lighting fixture in our bedroom. When I asked how they got up there, he explained that he was getting ready for basketball season. More often they’re on the floor wherever he stood or inside a solitary shoe. Whatever happened to the mate of that shoe has its own tale to tell. Some of the socks are past due for a proper burial in the trash. The dark socks never make it to the laundry basket. They seem to have a very long shelf life. He can always wear them again the next time we go to the movies. I think I’d better stop complaining about the socks before I find one in my mouth.