I love the sun. Really.
Getting up when its dark outside makes me grumpy. Running in the dark makes me nervous. Walking around in the dark makes me stub my toe. And sometimes run into walls. Unless I have my trusty cell-phone-screen flashlight.
I start work at a slightly different time every day. And especially at this time of year, I tend to leave my house around the time the sun is still rising. Because I wear glasses more than half the time and was too cheap to pay for transitions lenses, and because I lose and break sunglasses like its my hobby, I depend on my sun visor for glare protection.
It is absolutely useless.
Many mornings, I get into my car, back out of my driveway, drive through the neighborhood and onto the main road. After that I make a couple turns and BAM
Good morning! Your sun visor sucks! Love, the sun
See that black shadow up there? That’s my sun visor. And that super bright blinding ball? The sun. Clearly not being blocked by the visor. Sadly, I almost always drive around with it down, perhaps hoping that one day it will simply extend on its own or I’ll magically grow several inches overnight. Squinting all the way.
To the tune of Jingle Bells
Morning drive, morning drive
Squinting all the way
Oh how bright the sun is
In the first part of the day, hey!
A couple of nights ago, Bryan and I watched a particularly gruesome episode of Taboo. A Russian girl willingly underwent a a $26,000 surgery that broke both legs rendering her bedridden for 4 months, so they could slowly lengthen the bones and allow her to be slightly more than an inch taller.
That extra inch could possibly allow me to me tall enough to make the visor effective. (or maybe someone has invented an extender?) But while I hate the sun glare, I think I’ll sit on a phone book instead. I’d rather keep my leg bones intact. Plus I’d be horrible on bed rest, staring at my socks.
Every week I do a load or two of laundry. It’s neither my favorite nor least favorite chore. And, inevitably, with every load, are a few lonely, matchless, pairless socks.
Where do the socks go? They were there when I put them in the laundry basket. No matter how tired I am when throwing dirty laundry in the basket, I’m pretty sure I don’t forget to throw in both the socks I take off my feet. And yet somehow, inevitably, when I reach the point of my laundry-doing that I’m folding, I’m missing socks. I get that sometimes socks get separated in loads, or one gets left in the dryer when I’m pulling clothes out and gets an extra round in the dryer before finding its long lost match. Even then, though, when all the stray socks are paired, I am STILL.MISSING. SOCKS.
Seriously? I’d start washing them paired in a ball if it didn’t result in half washed, still-soaked-even-out-of-the-dryer-so-I’d-have-to -separate-them-to-dry-them-anyway socks.
When I’m feeling particularly OCD, I scour places for my missing socks. Under the bed. Behind the dryer. Around the basket. Mixed in the drawer. Sometimes, when I’m successful, I squeal a little with glee.
But I’m still missing socks.
That can only mean one thing.
A sock monster. The sock monster is stealing and eating my stray socks. Laughing while I search high and low for sock pairs. Beaming when I swear I just saw the matching sock right here.
I think he lives in my dryer. Just beware, sock monster. One day I’m gonna get sneaky, powder my floor with baking soda, and wake up looking for footprints. Then, when I find them, I’ll be a sock monster ninja. Or maybe I’ll just pretend to wash my socks, and the next sock you eat will be a stinky, dirty, filthy sock. One day, you’ll be eating your last sock.
Or – I guess I could just buy some new ones.
January 24, 2012 at 8:45 pm
I HATE the sock monster! I have to brag. I recently washed a ton of socks in my last load and matched them ALL! Unless the sock monster got both socks of the same pair….either way, I was immensely pleased I matched all my socks in the same load for the first time ever! I tried to share my joy with hubby but he looked at me like I had 3 heads when I told him how dryers secretly eat socks. Of course, he wouldn’t notice. He has 2 kinds of socks. White everyday socks, and black work socks. He buys them by the dozen and doesn’t bother matching them. So to him, the socks all get dumped in a drawer together. When he needs work socks, he grabs the first 2 black socks he sees and he’s good to go because they’ll match. If only everything were that easy! Ugh….
Oh, and I also have MEGA sympathy for you about the sun visor. I leave for work when it’s still dark, but occasionally, I do have to drive home in what would be a gorgeous Florida sunset, if it weren’t for the fact that I, too, am too short for the stupid visor. Ugh….again… 🙂
January 24, 2012 at 9:09 pm
This is too funny!! I hate the sock monster, especially when it eats an especially cute pair of new socks. Maybe though, I too should learn some ninja moves to combat this creature!
Thanks for commenting on my blog, ill be following along with you too!!
January 25, 2012 at 9:42 pm
Here from ICLW – I recently got into running (9 months ago) after being a lifelong exercise-hater and now I love reading other people’s experiences with it. And one time, I found this space in between my washing machine and the utility sink that was just FULL of the missing socks! It was amazing!
January 26, 2012 at 3:46 am
Oh god YES!!! I reckon there’s a black hole somewhere, at the bottom of which is about 60 gazillion single socks.
Same – I have a collection of odd ones on the pyjama shelf and every so often I raid Mr Stinky’s sock drawer (prime suspect #1 – he just shoves everything in there and doesn’t pair them up, ever) but its uncanny how they just disappear, isn’t it?!!
Thanks for commenting on my blog 🙂
January 26, 2012 at 10:45 am
The sock monster and the sun visor are two of the things that drive me crazy, too!!!
January 26, 2012 at 12:23 pm
Hmm. Whereas that surgery might make you a faster runner (longer legs are good, right?), it probably wouldn’t help the glare issue because you’d need a longer torso instead. Maybe you could get back-lengthening surgery?
We have a sock monster, too. He usually attaches the socks to clean sheets that get folded up together, I think.
Oh, and I’m having issues commenting on Blogger, too. I seem to only have problems when the post in question has a lot of comments already.
January 26, 2012 at 3:29 pm