OK, I know this is sort of banal. But I also can confess: I have a thing about socks. New socks.
Kendell, who decidedly does not have a thing about new socks (or so he thought) has a hard time understanding this little thing of mine. "Why do you need more socks?" he asks, probably rightfully. "You have a drawer of them."
True. Socks I've carefully washed and then not dried too hot because I'd like their newness to last as long as possible. You know how it feels....when you slide a new sock on? A brand new pair in all its cushy, soft glory. Ahhhh. Such a lovely moment.
Last week, Kendell—who really, really needed new socks but took awhile to pick the exactly right kind, finally bought a package of new socks. And even though he'd deny it, he knows. He looked at me with that look, the first time he pulled on his new socks. that "ahhhhhhh" look. Cushy, soft, glorious.
(I thought about naming this post something about how I love being right, but I didn't want to push it toooooo far!)
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