The world may flip inside out and turn upside down, but some things remain constant, providing our sanity with bolts to the floor. How tragic for me that my floor usually has a cold, wet, and sticky spill right in the middle of it...
There's been a dearth of humor in this blog lately, mostly because I've been busy, but also because I've been so down. I've lacked focus this summer and am only now returning to "normal". Thankfully, the kids are in school and the heat has abated. I don't know why, but this summer was the absolute worst. My brain melted in June and didn't jell until two weekends ago. I assure you that if it wasn't for the corks I kept in my ears, I wouldn't be able to jot any cogent thoughts here now.
Therefor, in light of my newly solidified grey matter, what better way to celebrate the advent of focus than with a bad luck entry!
My ten year old was cooking hotdogs today. She was shuffling about the kitchen in socks without incident. Then I arrived. I took two steps into the kitchen and stepped smack dab in the middle of something cold, icky, and slightly dingy. Hot dog juice! Right from the bottom of the bag.
Now this may not seem funny to you. And I'll be honest. It wasn't funny to me at the time, either. But my daughter sure thought it was a hoot. She giggled and smirked so smug in her dry socks. Why I should be the only one stepping in the messes is beyond me. At least I wasn't wearing socks this time.
This revulsion to wet socks must resonate on a genetic level with humans. One of our distant anscestors must have stepped in something really nasty to pass that revulsion up through the ages. A simple search at Google for "Like a wet sock" brings up hundreds of hits. Finally, common ground for all of humanity.
Some, like me, see a wet sock in a glass half empty sort of way - usually because the contents of the glass are now soaked up in our sock. However, many use wet socks as mnemonic devices to prevent optimism from sinking into their shoes, such as Linkstew. The rare and enlightened few take lemons and make lemonade by finding medicinal uses for wet socks. I kid you not. The rest just change their socks and get on with life.
So there you have it. Wet socks as a metaphor for life. However, next time life hits me in the face like a wet sock, I'm sure the sock will be for real.