*This was copied from my diary sometime in 2008*
Karen has been pestering me to throw out my holy socks for some time now. I resisted, for a while, as I knew that though I currently have a lot of pairs, once the culling began then there would be no stopping, and we would find out exactly how many, or rather, how few intact socks I own.
But because I love her, I obliged, and yesterday I began the process, terrified as I was.
The girl is a darling, though. This morning I opened my sock drawer to find five new pairs. Excitedly, I decided to forgo an old pair and wear a new one today, to show my appreciation.
Here’s where it gets horrid. I grabbed some scissors to cut the plastic frob that holds the socks in the pack. However, my incision was slightly off target.
The sock that I wear on my left foot became the first sock in my history to have a hole in it before it had ever been worn.