I don’t know what’s with all the holes lately.
I’m mostly referring to socks; but really, it’s more than just the socks. There’s that giant gaping hole in my gut (anxiety), there was the great septic system debacle that involved holes and trenches scattered over the property, there’s the holes we shot in my scarf and my jeans, holes in Sunshine’s work clothes….
I suppose the work clothes bit doesn’t surprise me. Sunshine is a mason, and masons work with bricks and rocks and blocks and sand and all sorts of abrasive shit; the fact that there is lime in the mortar just contributes to the problem. The man can destroy a $300 pair of Red Wing boots in two years; that same pair of boots might last a carpenter ten years and a hipster could get twenty years of life out of them.
But it’s the socks that kill me. Sunshine gets pedicures pretty regularly; I insisted on it when he got diagnosed as diabetic. His feet aren’t the problem, so I don’t know what the fuck is making so many holes in his socks. Maybe it’s the sand, getting in his boots. The answer to this question will probably continue to elude me well past the end of days.
side note: what kills me worse than the holes in the socks is Sunshine’s stubborn refusal to NOT WEAR THE SOCKS WITH HOLES IN THEM. What the fuck is that even about? I have given up on trying to figure it out or convince him to throw away his gross socks. I just keep an eye on the laundry now, and toss them when I see them come through.
As boggled as I am by all the holes in Sunshine’s socks, I am even more befuddled at the holes I saw in my socks when I took them off after work on Sunday. I work with fruit. How the fuck am I getting holes in my socks? Pears have a gritty texture, but it ain’t that fucking gritty. I can’t figure it out.
If anybody has the answer, please share it with me. I’m driving myself crazy trying to figure out how I wound up with holes in my socks.
final note: Normally, I would probably take this opportunity to bitch about the missing socks. You know the ones I’m talking about. They go missing in the laundry cycle, and nobody can seem to pinpoint exactly where they go. I’ve finally discovered the answer to this question. When a sock goes missing in the laundry, it reappears in the kitchen as a Tupperware lid that doesn’t fit anything.