Things are starting to get serious, kids. As I’ve said a few times in the past six weeks, I don’t have the great arsenal of socks that I possessed as 2018 came to a close. As I kept only my favorites, I don’t know that I still own even three score pairs in total, and to be honest, I wouldn’t have thought I had even that many. Nonetheless, I’m beginning to see that only owning 60 pairs on day 46 is a bit of concern if I’m hoping to maintain uniqueness throughout our time at home.
(Especially since what remains is largely all of a very similar pattern, which is on display again here today).
I’ve worn all the puppy dogs and cheeseburgers, all the beer mugs and bottles that one might hope to have on hand when waxing nostalgic about the old timey happy hours of a January long past, at places where you could sit, and order and actually consume a beverage or two.
Luckily, the wife, as usual, has my back. See, we’ve got kind of this unspoken agreement. It’s more or less my fundamental responsibility to try and keep her from Losing Her Ever Loving Shit on the daily as two of us and our four children cohabit without break for months ad naseum. In return, she generally prevents me from living in a heap of my filth, while also keeping on the lookout for cheap socks.
We’re not going to go crazy and repeat 2018, of course. As the world opens back up, socks posts will once again ride off into the sunset. But for this week, at least, we’re still on Operation Sock Post, and, accordingly, the wife scored me a few new pairs of fun patterns yesterday.
All of which is to say, you can thank your lucky stars she’s doing her job, so tomorrow you won’t be stuck with looking at another pair of argyle.