Welp, here we are. The end of 2018 is nearly a month away and there are still many more pair of socks in the drawer of holding here on November 27th than I ever would have dreamed possible in early January. Back then I figured that if we — and I’m very much including the Puddinette here, because this little sock endeavor would have lasted about 10 days if she hasn’t gotten onboard — made it to my birthday without running out of unique pairs, that would be pretty impressive.
We’re obviously not done yet, of course. There’s still, what, 35 or 34 days off 2018 left? But I chose this pair of grey socks with pink, blue, and black stripes this morning because it pretty closely matched my shirt. Which, quite frankly, boggles my mind. By now I should be pulling out whatever remains in there, the bummers and dregs, the ugliest things I’d been shoving to back of the drawer for six months or so.
And I have some of those. I do. Not every pair we’ve brought home this year has been the Robert Redford of footwear. I mean, when you buy in large packs and you need 365 pairs, sometimes you get what you get and you don’t throw a fit.
But with a mere 34 days left and the holidays about to start in earnest, the fact that I can still find socks that I want to wear — and that I’m still managing to write posts that say anything more than, “Day 311. I wore socks again, if you can believe it. They looked like… socks.” is nothing short of miraculous.