Sock Story - January 6, 2017
Sock Story
“Laurie-darlin’,” said I, “you may want to check my top drawer for your socks. I accidentally packed away your socks with mine when I was putting away the laundry…”
Forty years ago, this wouldn’t have been a concern, because for almost two decades Laurence and I shared a sock drawer. We also shared an underwear, t-shirt, and pyjama drawer – mine were on the left hand side, Laur’s were on the right.
This worked well for two reasons. One, we didn’t have all that many clothes – we both hate shopping. Two, we didn’t have all that much room in any of the bedrooms we had … until we moved into 465 Loach’s Rd. And then things changed…
To backtrack a little, I was the executor of the will of an elderly friend of mine. In Fred’s will he stated that the contents of his small apartment were to go to me or the Salvation Army. And given that most of our furniture was (and is) second hand, it wasn’t that much of a difference.
The only think Laur wanted were the shelves. He had actually made them for our friend Fred. (There is a story here – but that is for another time.) Laur always had many more books than shelves – this provided him with a chance to catch up.
But along about this time, I had discovered buying undergarments in multipacks and socks with bright colours and crazy designs. And I had become a t-shirt junkie and – gasp – had more than one pair of pyjamas. Our shared chest of three drawers just wasn’t working anymore.
Said I to Laurence, “I would like to bring home Fred’s chest of drawers for you. I’d like to have our set just for my stuff.” The look on Laurence’s face! It was the look of a man whose wife is telling him that she is leaving! When he regained his composure, just a little, he muttered something like, “So this is how it starts…”
How we ever got that chest of drawers up the stairs and into our bedroom, I have no idea – but we did – and there it sat. It had NINE drawers in it. Initially, Laur only filled up three – looking very dejected as he did it. But then he began to discover the joy of drawers! Laur is a packrat – within a few weeks the other drawers were filled with piles of papers, books, a coin collection, and even a few extra pieces of clothing. He had to “keep up with the Jans.”
This system worked for almost 20 years – and then came moving day. We were downsizing from a rambling, large-family dwelling, to a small, furnished apartment – some 300 miles (500 kms) away. And we were moving ourselves. Since we had no need of our furniture, which had breathed its last in any event, we just put it out at the side of the road. Folks who had camps (rustic cottages) and needed furniture (or firewood) came and collected it.
Our new place had one chest of drawers which I immediately claimed, and we boldly went out and bought a second (used) set for Laur. But then an apartment came up at the seniors’ place that we had put our name in on. We bought the former tenant’s furniture (and there is a story to be told) – but she had already given away her bedroom furniture. No problem – a friend gave us a bed. (We really aren’t poor – we just really hate shopping.) And we brought with us our one set of drawers. Not having what it took to go out and buy another set – and not having much room anyway – we downsized our clothing, and started sharing again. (OK, not quite. Laur has to pile a lot of his underthings on some shelves in a closet. You best look twice before reaching for a facecloth.)
And now here we are in our trailer – with fewer clothes and ever fewer shelves – sharing a chest of drawers again. Sharing in a way that I get the top two drawers, and Laur gets the bottom one – but sharing, nonetheless. As I friend of mine said regarding husband-wife relationships, “I’d rather be the woman of the house, than married to one.”
*****
By now you may be wondering what ever happened to Laur’s socks here at our trailer. Did he manage to find them? Nah! Laur just looked at me with the look that says, “Could our relationship slide any closer to the bottom of the hill?” I think he may be waiting for me to move them for him.
All of this is a round-about way of saying, if you see my hubs wandering around the park sockless, you’ll know that I didn’t get around to moving them. Or if you see him sporting some bright pink and purple socks with kittens and unicorns on them, you’ll know he dug into the wrong side of the drawer.
“Laurie-darlin’,” said I, “you may want to check my top drawer for your socks. I accidentally packed away your socks with mine when I was putting away the laundry…”
Forty years ago, this wouldn’t have been a concern, because for almost two decades Laurence and I shared a sock drawer. We also shared an underwear, t-shirt, and pyjama drawer – mine were on the left hand side, Laur’s were on the right.
This worked well for two reasons. One, we didn’t have all that many clothes – we both hate shopping. Two, we didn’t have all that much room in any of the bedrooms we had … until we moved into 465 Loach’s Rd. And then things changed…
To backtrack a little, I was the executor of the will of an elderly friend of mine. In Fred’s will he stated that the contents of his small apartment were to go to me or the Salvation Army. And given that most of our furniture was (and is) second hand, it wasn’t that much of a difference.
The only think Laur wanted were the shelves. He had actually made them for our friend Fred. (There is a story here – but that is for another time.) Laur always had many more books than shelves – this provided him with a chance to catch up.
But along about this time, I had discovered buying undergarments in multipacks and socks with bright colours and crazy designs. And I had become a t-shirt junkie and – gasp – had more than one pair of pyjamas. Our shared chest of three drawers just wasn’t working anymore.
Said I to Laurence, “I would like to bring home Fred’s chest of drawers for you. I’d like to have our set just for my stuff.” The look on Laurence’s face! It was the look of a man whose wife is telling him that she is leaving! When he regained his composure, just a little, he muttered something like, “So this is how it starts…”
How we ever got that chest of drawers up the stairs and into our bedroom, I have no idea – but we did – and there it sat. It had NINE drawers in it. Initially, Laur only filled up three – looking very dejected as he did it. But then he began to discover the joy of drawers! Laur is a packrat – within a few weeks the other drawers were filled with piles of papers, books, a coin collection, and even a few extra pieces of clothing. He had to “keep up with the Jans.”
This system worked for almost 20 years – and then came moving day. We were downsizing from a rambling, large-family dwelling, to a small, furnished apartment – some 300 miles (500 kms) away. And we were moving ourselves. Since we had no need of our furniture, which had breathed its last in any event, we just put it out at the side of the road. Folks who had camps (rustic cottages) and needed furniture (or firewood) came and collected it.
Our new place had one chest of drawers which I immediately claimed, and we boldly went out and bought a second (used) set for Laur. But then an apartment came up at the seniors’ place that we had put our name in on. We bought the former tenant’s furniture (and there is a story to be told) – but she had already given away her bedroom furniture. No problem – a friend gave us a bed. (We really aren’t poor – we just really hate shopping.) And we brought with us our one set of drawers. Not having what it took to go out and buy another set – and not having much room anyway – we downsized our clothing, and started sharing again. (OK, not quite. Laur has to pile a lot of his underthings on some shelves in a closet. You best look twice before reaching for a facecloth.)
And now here we are in our trailer – with fewer clothes and ever fewer shelves – sharing a chest of drawers again. Sharing in a way that I get the top two drawers, and Laur gets the bottom one – but sharing, nonetheless. As I friend of mine said regarding husband-wife relationships, “I’d rather be the woman of the house, than married to one.”
*****
By now you may be wondering what ever happened to Laur’s socks here at our trailer. Did he manage to find them? Nah! Laur just looked at me with the look that says, “Could our relationship slide any closer to the bottom of the hill?” I think he may be waiting for me to move them for him.
All of this is a round-about way of saying, if you see my hubs wandering around the park sockless, you’ll know that I didn’t get around to moving them. Or if you see him sporting some bright pink and purple socks with kittens and unicorns on them, you’ll know he dug into the wrong side of the drawer.