a peek inside the fishbowl

Two quick things:

• I have another holiday gift-guide up at terra20 today. Click over to read five cool things you can give that might help the world a little bit!
• Remember the issue we had with our window treatments? Well, Home Depot got our order wrong for a SECOND time. Mark demanded (and received) a full refund yesterday. And so, with that, we start from scratch. I can hardly believe it.

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As we’ve been settling in to our renovated home I’ve been trying to use our unpacking time as a continued opportunity to purge and sort our belongings. Some stuff goes into the garbage, and other things are donated. Every bag and box that leaves our home is one less burden for me to bear. Those things take up my space, not just physically, but mentally. I cannot tell you how happy it made me to see a layer of ratty underthings in the kitchen garbage for example. No fond farewell required there. And as a bonus, the survivors have room to breath in my underwear drawer.

The other drawer in my nightstand has not escaped notice either: my sock drawer.

Sidebar: I love socks. Fellow sock sistas will relate to this I’m sure. I like warm feet - but not too warm - otherwise they cross into Sweaty Feet Territory and this is not a place I like to be. There is a special place in my heart for knee-highs (complete coverage!) and so I ask Santa to bring me socks every year at Christmas.

I would love to get a box full of socks because it is truly the gift that keeps on giving. (HINT HINT)

Good socks do not come cheap. Cheap socks contain too much polyester and as we all know, polyester is the gateway to Sweaty Feet Territory. Good quality socks cost a few extra bucks, and that’s why I know, deep inside my heart, that good socks deserve to be cherished and repaired.

Socks have gained a reputation as being a disposable item - one with a predetermined lifespan - but it wasn’t always like this. Socks used to be a symbol of wealth among the nobility, but today you can buy four pairs for about ten bucks at Winners or Joe Fresh.

What does it mean when/if I throw out a pair of these socks when they develop a little hole in the toe? What does it say about me? What picture does it paint for my kids when they see me tossing a perfectly good sock (albeit with a small hole) in the garbage?

Do people mend their socks anymore?

When I throw a sock in the garbage I wonder if it means I’m lazy, and that this menial little job is not worth my time. This is not something I want to impart to my kids, so even though I hate sewing, and it’s a huge pain in the butt, I am going to have to dig out the sewing kit and call a sewing circle to order.

When I darn the hole in the toe of my sock I am saying:

• It is important to take good care of our things.
• It is important to take time for ourselves.
• It is important to avoid waste (financial and environmental etc.)

What do you think? Is a hole in a sock worth repairing? Why or why not? A stitch in time saves nine, right?

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