Metaphor

September 21, 2009

I have an unmatched sock. It lives in the bottom of the laundry basket.

Every time I do laundry, it gets washed with the rest of the load, and every time I get to the last few socks that need to be mated, I hold out hope that this one rogue sock’s mate will have magically appeared. Maybe it was stuck in the leg of some sweatpants and I never noticed, or maybe it was under the dresser and I never reached far enough back there to get it until this time when another renegade piece of clothing made a run for it,┬ábut finally, HERE IT IS! The lonely sock that weekly gets tossed back into the basket when the last of the dish towels has been folded to wait out another week or ten days before the cycle starts all over again has lived to find its mate!

But not this week.

Still. Back in the basket it goes. It and I, still holding out hope.