I have a drawer of socks. (I’m sure that most of you have something similar as there are very few ways to store socks besides a drawer or possibly a basket.) I am puzzled, though, by this sock drawer and why I can’t seem to get all my socks in it and still close the drawer easily.
Socks are a convenient way, when packing a suitcase, to take up the spaces that occur in between shoes or in the corners of the case. Socks provide an ideal way to maximize every useful bit of storage in a suitcase.
But here’s the odd thing about socks and drawers, socks are not self-leveling. Unlike water, which if you put in a drawer, will find its own level. Socks simply do not level themselves out. So when you try and close your drawer of socks, it never closes easily. Some little bit of a sock you never wear is always sticking out in place or another.
Can you imagine a drawer of self-leveling socks such that when you put a sock in it, the drawer reorganizes itself to accommodate the socks perfectly ensuring that the drawer will close? Wow!
The day is upon us. The day which is proof that global conspiracies exist. Yes, that’s right. It’s almost Valentines Day.
I hate Valentines Day. I hate what it does to people. I hate how god-awfully stupid people act. It generally makes me want to wear a large foam hand (with middle finger extended) and walk around restaurants mocking people.
But why, Ian? Why do you have such amazing bile for this innocuous holiday? A day to express love and joy and… SHUT THE FUCK UP! (Sorry, I know this is a family show, but I am having a hard time holding back)
The day is the biggest conspiracy of all. FTD, Hallmark, Zales, and Ronnie Mervis have all teamed up to bring us this ridiculous day. Why exactly do we need to be reminded of the people around us and how much we care for them? Shouldn’t we be doing that every day? And why is this the only day of the year that the average guy tries to figure out a) what being romantic is and b) tries to implement on that plan? Folks, let’s face it, if you spend 364 days of the year being an uncaring, unromantic, belly-button-lint-picker, you are not going to get it right on Valentines Day… it just ain’t gonna happen. With that in mind, please, stay at home, don’t try to be cute by buying wilted roses from some guy on the street corner, don’t attempt to write a sonnet (especially if all you can think of is “There once was a man from Nantucket.”)
At any rate, it took me 2 hours to get to work this morning… 2 hours to go 16 miles. I walk faster than that. In fact, I walk backwards faster than that. Ah, love is in the air.
This sums up a lot of my angst.