Tale of books, toys and socks
Published: Sunday, June 13th, 2004
I really think some inanimate things are alive. When I was a child I used to think that the characters in my parents’ books would come out at night when I was asleep or during the day when I was at school and visit each other. To help out, I would put Robinson Crusoe and The Virginian, near Little Women because I figured those guys had to be really lonely. I would also put my dad’s Popular Science Magazine near Robinson Crusoe and Swiss Family Robinson so they could come up with better ideas to help them survive on their islands. I would borrow my parents’ Dr. Spock and put it next to Gone with the Wind because I just knew that Rhett and Scarlett definitely needed counseling. I also believed that my toy soldiers and cowboys and Indians would also come alive when I wasn’t around and fight battles, visit and I guess drink really small cups of coffee (who knew there were so many great movies in my imagination?). But I outgrew those childish ideas. After all, I am an adult now. I mean living toys, or living characters in books - that’s foolish. I now believe there are only two inanimate things that can move on their own with no assistance from human beings -- socks and keys. I don’t know how it happened that these two things gained the ability to have self contained motion, but it is a problem and one that really gets on my nerves. For instance, I will be getting dressed to go to something special and I will reach into my sock drawer and I have nine socks none of which match one another. I will have a single red and green sock, a single yellow and green sock, a single blue and green sock, a single neon green sock, and four really ugly socks all unmatched. I just know their mates have run off somewhere with each other. Everyone has heard that more and more marriages are breaking up more and more often. Obviously it is happening with clothing too. Can’t you just hear the break-up conversations? “Lefty, I’m leaving you.” “But...why, is it my....smell? It’s not my fault, really. It’s him.” (he gestures at me). “No, Lefty, No...It’s just that I’ve found my solemate.” “So, you’re hot-footing it away? Leaving me flat?” “I know you must think I’m a heel, but Red and I met in the drawer and he was so fresh...” But you get the idea. They run off together to some obscure romantic hide-away in Sock Dakota or Sock Carolina thus leaving me with nothing but singleton socks. I have tried to explain my theory to my wife, but more and more these days, she just walks away shaking her head and mumbling that insanity should be grounds for divorce in New Mexico. As for keys...well, we’ll talk about that theory another time.
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