Today’s minor problem that my brain has latched onto and won’t let go of: my favorite hiking socks are missing. I’d noticed this a week or so ago, but figured they were in the mounds of laundry that built up while the dryer was not working right. Now I’m far enough through the pile that I can see the socks aren’t in there. This makes me sad and mad out of all proportion—I have plenty of other hiking socks, but that does not console me. Now the only socks I want are the ones I can’t find. I’ve looked everywhere in the condo that seemed reasonable: my sock drawer, my other sock drawer, the box of socks that don’t fit in either drawer because damn I have way too many socks for the much smaller dresser drawers out here, the suitcase and flight bag I used on the trip out here, the dirty laundry even though it’s not the right color, Mr. Karen’s sock drawer even though I’m sure he would have noticed alien socks in his clean laundry, the boots I wore on the first day of our drive out here.
Not finding the socks, I thought about where they might be if they’re not here. I suppose they could be back in Michigan, like my ski pants, but that doesn’t seem likely given that I have all my other hiking socks. Why would I leave my favorite ones and bring the rest? Maybe they weren’t with the other socks when I packed and I didn’t notice, but I think I would have noticed. I’m trying to remember what socks I wore with the boots for that first day’s drive; the missing socks seem like the likely choice, being not too bulky and breathable, but I don’t remember if indeed I did wear them then. If so, I could have accidentally left them behind in that Wisconsin motel room. Mr. Karen is good about doing a last sweep of rooms before we check out, but if I’d kicked them under a piece of furniture he wouldn’t have seen them. Or maybe they fell out of my dirty clothes bag at a later stop. I just don’t know, and that bothers me. The one good thing is they’re both missing; if someone found these, at least they have a functional pair of nice warm socks, unlike the folks who may have picked up the singleton gloves and mittens I’ve lost over the years.
I have spent way too much time and mental energy on these socks. Obviously they weren’t so important to me that I kept good track of them, and I’m not going to have to go barefoot in the cold because I can’t find them now, so I really need to stop worrying about where they are and how I lost them. I need to stop thinking about how I bought them at Jackson Hole one day after skiing because the socks on my feet were feeling super sweaty, and I hadn’t brought a spare pair, and we were going out to dinner before driving back to Grand Targhee. I need to stop searching online for a replacement pair (the current Smartwool product lineup has something very similar but not quite the same, at least as far as I can recall the details of these socks I claim were my favorites). Maybe the socks will turn up; maybe they won’t. Regardless, I need to move on and worry about something more important now, like whether my knees are going to let me ski as much as I want to this season.
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