Saturday, October 17, 2009

Life's Enduring Mysteries

I refer, of course, to the one sock syndrome. I have spent the afternoon cleaning out drawers and closets in my bedroom. I even emptied the ironing basket– a place where all sorts of things that I really don’t need, languish until I give them away. Net total of socks without partners - seventeen! And, yes – I did look behind the dryer. Beats me. I will protest though in my defense that this is a two-year haul.

25 plus years ago, in the midst of a not nice by any standards divorce – I received a demand note via attorney from my then husband’s attorney. Said husband by the way was busy setting up house with a “lost love” – a high school sweetie miraculously discovered at the 25th. Reunion. Not sure what her husband and three children were doing. Anyway – I got the demand by FedEx, signature required delivery. At the time, my primary concern was hanging on to my children at all costs. Via his new love and “god”, husband had received a “message” that he would be a better parent. I was relieved that the demand was for personal items that the doctor had left in the marital home and that apparently I was holding hostage. And for the record - this is proof that "god" is male. No female deity would send that kind of message.

Yep, you got it. I bundled up all those odd socks accumulated during 19 years of marriage and sent them, at his expense, overnight delivery! Oh, and I popped into the box all the shabby, Endust impregnated Y fronts used as dusters. I should ask our regular columnist, Anne Perry if these items come under history or baggage!

My most recent housekeeping frenzy is motivated by a Monday deadline house swap. I know, having already benefited from time at my “swappees” house, that my incoming guests are meticulous housekeepers. Not that I’m a slob but the thought of someone falling into the “socks without partners box” is a little humiliating.

Since it was a blazing hot day in Tucson – 96F AC back on, I rather enjoyed the holing up and heaving out session of closet cleaning. Two massive bags stand ready for delivery to the local International Refugee Office here in town – and I’m trying to figure out what to do with a Pauline Trigere, circa 1981 winter coat. I think it weighs in at 30 pounds - I know it's built to withstand Midwest artic, winter blasts. My Mary Quant mini dress from 1966 stays with me – a forlorn reminder of an itsy bitsy body, youth and my very first pair of panty hose (no, I don’t still have them). It was my mother who bought me that dress and the panty hose- she worried that I was becoming "too academic" and fusty, all that graduate fellowship book stuff - she didn't know about the Officer Candidate School in Newport , RI! I have kept my wedding dress – true, it’s in a plastic hefty bag on the closet shelf – I didn’t do that dress embalming thing - ever so chic and Jackie ‘ish - even had a little pillbox hat in lieu of a veil.

But back to the mystery. There must be a vortex somewhere – I’ve heard Sedona mentioned - for all those lonely socks. If you know where it is, let me know – I’ll send mine regular delivery to live out their life in peace, one by one. Who knows – they may well find a sole-mate.

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