Much like my filing cabinet (into which I still have to fit those rassem frassem condo folders), my brain contains vast quantities of trivial information, the storage of which I suspect is preventing me from reaching my full potential. For instance, when this sock was left unpaired after I’d put away all the laundry in the basket, I was not only annoyed, as I like those socks and wear them often, but I was also treated to my brain running through all the facts it could recall about these socks and their peers, and there were a lot of them. I think the annoyance is normal and reasonable but recalling the almost complete history of this insignificant object in my life is a step beyond.
This sock is actually one of the second pair like it that I bought from Sierra Trading Post some time ago now (I do not know the year—that tidbit at least is not cluttering up my brain). These were men’s socks (made in France or England, I believe—another tidbit not stored); I don’t usually buy men’s socks because my feet, while not dainty by any means, are just small enough that the standard one-size-fits-most men’s socks are a bit floppy on me, but these came in two sizes, the smaller of which was perfect for me. I ordered one pair each of the black and brown in this pattern. Not too long after they arrived, one of the black ones went missing. Since I’d like the sock and they were still available, I ordered a replacement pair and kept the singleton around in case its mate turned up. What felt like a long time later, I tossed the lone sock during one of my periodic attempts to de-clutter. A long time after that, the missing mate surfaced under the couch in the family room—one place I certainly had not looked for it.
So now I’m down to one of these socks. Should I hang onto this one in case its partner shows up months or years from now in some unexpected place? Or should I just toss it? This is the sort of question that takes up entirely too much of my pondering time.
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