[A repeat from December 21, 2017] In my post of April 2, 2017, I discussed the gift of colorful and quirky “Happy Socks” that my granddaughters gave me last Christmas. I have more than a dozen pair and I now wear them every day. But as in all cases, the past is prologue. . . .
My granddaughters had a sleepover at our house earlier this week. I got dressed and then called out the door offering Eve and Elin the option of selecting the Happy Socks that I would wear to work. The two of them (ages 3 and 6) bolted in, pulled open my sock drawer and began perusing the choices. Each held up a different pair. And insisted that I wear “their” pair. I asked that they confer (something like the U.S. Congress) to come up with one pair that I ought wear. No deal. Each wanted me to wear “their” pair. . . . .
Please understand that I am not as dumb as I look. So we reached a compromise. For the first time in my life — I agreed to wear two highly different colorful socks to work. My granddaughters looked at each other like – he really is as dumb as he looks. And squealed. Each peeled off one sock and handed it to me. I sat down and put them on. The good news is that I told no one else about my wardrobe issue. No one looked at my feet. And no one (that I could tell) noticed during the day. I arrived home unscathed from my Solomonic decision. That said – I tossed the two socks down the laundry chute for washing. And I will await their delivery — to reunite them with their rightful partner. . . . .