The Barefoot Truth

Yesterday I stayed home from work.

That alone is no great piece of earth-shattering news, but the reason for my absence certainly is.

I had no socks.

Nary a one.

Least you think I'm too lazy to do laundry or too poor to buy foot coverage, let me explain that it wasn't my fault.  Not at all.

I blame it on The Boy.

Because, even though he has been brought up better, The Boy is indeed too lazy to do his own laundry.  He is well known for lying around the house fully aware of his clothes-less state, never bothering to move to do something about it until forty-five minutes before he has to be at work.  At that time he will, if nagged, get up and throw some clothes in the washer and/or dryer.  If not nagged, he will wear whatever there is that smells best and is the least wrinkled.

Including socks.

However, (and I think you can see where I'm going with this) of late he's been stealing his father's socks to wear.  That is, until I made a horrible mistake.

I took my clothes out of the dryer and hung them up, putting together pairs of socks.  But I left my dear little socklings on top of the dryer. 

I knew I had three pairs of socks just waiting for me.  I knew this.

But I misjudged the situation, as well as the desperation of The Boy.

The Boy has what can only be described as gunboats at the end of his legs.  He came by it naturally, granted.  It was because of this that I never thought he'd stoop so low as to STEAL my socks.  I mean, they don't even cover his foot!

But steal them, he most certainly did.  For three days running, no less.

And so it was that yesterday when I went downstairs to get the three pairs of socks I KNEW were there, they weren't. 

I did an emergency load, but even at that I would be an hour late to work. 

"What," said I, "is the use?"

And so I stayed home.

I did manage to call in and tell them I wasn't coming.  And believe it or not, I told the truth.  There is no Missing Sock Leave, but I had another type of day I could use.

Now, I suppose I could have put on my shoes and gone to the local supermarket to buy more socks, but what would have been the fun in that?  Not to mention that I sorely needed the rest due to the Evil of all Evils, Daylight Savings Time.  Plus, it made a good point with The Boy that one does not simply take something that isn't theirs.

Of course, he'll probably go back to stealing his dad's socks now.  Heaven forbid he should do his own laundry!