How's Your Sox Life?

Several years ago I was housesitting for a friend over the holidays. Her housemate hadn't yet moved out, however, so Sandra (who was no longer speaking to her) advised me, "Just ignore her."

To be sure, her housemate was not the most congenial person. She was needy. If I looked at her or replied to any comment or question, I'd be listening to her for the next hour. This could be rather discomfiting.

But I wanted to be kind. During this journey, I had a "clothes encounter" with my winter socks, which I'd somehow misplaced. I had eight or nine pair, in vibrant hues. Although I didn't recall packing them in one of the boxes I'd stored months earlier in Sandra's garage, I checked anyway. No socks.

That night as I allowed my mind to relax, I received the impression that my socks were in the external compartment of my green duffel bag, which had been in my car the entire time. In the morning, I looked there. Bingo.

Sandra's housemate heard about the sock caper, and had expressed her yearning for purple socks, since she'd once had a pair that had either been lost or stolen. When I found my sock cache, I walked into the house and held up two pair, one purple, one blue, and offered her whichever pair she wanted (we wore the same size).

Like a starving person being offered food, she grabbed the purple ones and thanked me profusely, saying, "It's like you gave me a house!"

I was humbled, and ashamed of my earlier thoughts. Sometimes — often — it takes so very little to uplift one of our fellow travelers. What we need to know is usually quite "clothes" to us.

So … how's your sox life? If it could use some rejuvenation, you know what to do now. Blessings!