Little Socks

The last couple of entries have taken quite a heavy-handed look at some of the ways I see the world evolving, and whether my views are right or wrong… accepted as fact or dismissed as the ramblings of a malcontent is not the point of making them (the point of making them is that I can make them). However, some of the folks that visit this site for a daily dose of oddball thoughts, strange narratives about condiments and entertaining tales of a nun’s sweat drenched thighs may have been a little disappointed at my angry ramblings and my perceptions of the climate of this country for the past week or so. Instead of being insightful, I’m afraid I’ve been cantankerous, and instead of being humorous, I’ve been annoying and fumed. It seems the older I get the more opinionated I become and the less afraid I am of telling people about it. Maybe that’s a bad thing; maybe I should keep myself to myself. Who knows?

Sigh.

Truth to tell, I’m not much in the mood to be enlightening, insightful, humorous or even annoying about much of anything today. It is just one of those days where you regret getting out of bed and you can’t wait to return, as nothing between the bookshelves of bedtimes goes right or gets done. What is especially galling is that I can't put my finger on a reason why. Maybe there’s a lot on my mind—lots of work to do, projects to finish, plans to flesh out; the house is a disaster, for one, and for a person whose mental stability depends largely in part of where Natalie’s toys are at any given moment, I’m headed for a straightjacket and a padded room. I don’t remember the last time I felt safe walking though the house in the middle of the night without fear of breaking a toe (again), as my smallest toe still hurts from two weeks ago.

While Matthew refused to have any part of napping this morning, I scurried about the dwelling putting things in their equitable places, deciding that, at least, if they are in their rightful rooms and there was a navigable path from one room to the next, it was close enough. Why is there a cake plate in the office? Oh yes, of course… it was me.

I finally stripped off the winter sheets on the bed and replaced them with the oh-so-cool cotton sheets we’ve had for so long, they’re as soft as can be, and when you climb into bed on these hot summer nights (which have arrived like a SWAT team), it’s like sleeping in a light snowdrifts—at least until my 98.6 permeates everything into a humid, clammy sleepless night. And since it is too hot in my office to get anything done of any importance, I commandeered the laptop and sprawled out on the bed for today’s entry.

And that’s where it ends. I’ve really got nothing to say. I’ve done nothing monumental to report today, and I think I’ll give my opinions a rest for once. It’s not that I’ve abandoned them for the sunny slopes of optimism, I just don’t much feel like sharing. Instead, I give you something I came up with while sorting the kids’ laundry this morning:

Little Socks

Little socks on little feet
A matching outfit they complete
Red-striped socks, and green ones too,
White ones, purple ones and even blue.

Soon you’ll grow so big and tall
You’ll roll and talk and even crawl
Those little socks will seem too tight
Your big-boy feet won’t fit so right

One day you’ll need a bigger pair
You’ll toss aside what you use to wear
Those little socks that were once so dear
Will seem smaller and smaller every year

One day your socks will be just like mine,
Big and white and they’ll say “Size Nine,”
But I will always remember it was such a treat
To change those little socks on your little feet.