I Just Grabbed the Socks

I went to Costco last week. My favorite place with my favorite guy. It was our date night and after almost 15 years together, this is my chosen form of romance. My head was full of worry about this, that, and nothing in particular. The usual. The neurotic part of my brain fighting against the part that was trying to feel the effects of the yoga class I took two hours prior. Let’s be honest it’s all neurotic. But I’m the author of my own story and I’m choosing to pretend there’s a rational quadrant of my brain. Okay?

Instead of writing down what we needed at Costco, I played that fun game of trying to remember, on the fly, what we came here for in the amount of time I had before Thomas got wrangy. My lack of preparation paired with my general angst left a sliver of coherent brain power to complete my tasks.

“Oh!” I thought in a moment of clarity, “I need socks!”.

Now, I realize we’re talking about socks here, but stay with me. I’m getting a foothold. Stick with the pace of my writing and I’ll put my best foot forward. Enough puns? Fair. This purchase felt pressing because I’ve been walking half an hour to and from work every day. While I’m enjoying this influx of movement in my daily routine, it’s been wreaking havoc on my sock collection. I know, this is fucking scintilating content but I urge you not to abandon this post just yet. I know Instagram is more instantly gratifying but I promise this will eventually leave you contemplating ...something.

So, I try to buy clothing consciously but there are four things I never buy second hand; underwear, bras, shoes, and socks, all for obvious reasons. However, the fact that I buy these items brand-spanking-new means I try and hold off for as long as possible to replenish the stock until I reallllly need them. Guilt about the environment and its impending doom works in weird, gross ways.

So, it was finally time to get some new foot-hats and what better place than Costco? They have the best socks. As I walked along the aisle with the socks, there wasn’t a person in sight. Unheard of at Costco. What a rush! That is until I got to the socks. There was a couple mindlessly chatting right in front of the Puma shoe fillers.

I stood there, slightly off to the left. Staring at them. Like a weirdo. I needed those socks. I had waited months. The time was now. I didn’t want to impose or seem rude but I also wanted to let my presence be known. I stood there like an awkward, mute, mindless sock-hungry capitalist. A consumer of Costco sized proportions. So there I am, staring these two down asking them, with my eyes, to kindly get the fuck out of the way.

Clearly, my plan wasn’t working. They didn’t see me. While I wondered whether I was turning into Capser, or if my face had suddenly become less readable, the couple continued to park their keisters right in front of those cushy feet pillows. They were having a very quiet, very intense conversation. I understand, Costco stirs up powerful emotions in all of us but seriously you two, move!

Now my monkey brain was in full-tilt boogey. I was getting irked. I was full on annoyed. “Couldn’t they see me?!”, “who do they think they are?!”, “if I were them I’d be mortified at my ignorance!”, “I would never be so oblivious that I couldn’t see a new-socks hungry-30 something-year-old who is obviously desperate to get back to bingeing On Becoming A God in South Central Florida, standing right in front of me!”, “what’s wrong with these monsters, nay, what’s wrong with the human race?! Where’s the humanity?!!!!”. A touch dramatic? A touch self involved? Well, I’ll let you be the judge of that.

Then, dear readers who have stuck with me, I did the only reasonable thing there was to do while experiencing an inner existential temper tantrum; I jammed my little paws in between the couple and grabbed a packet of socks like a snake attacking a mouse. One swift snappy movement. I don’t know if they saw me. I’m hoping they didn’t. I threw the socks into our cart once I caught up with T. When he asks me what took so long, I shrug and grumble “uh, nothing. What took you so long? Weirdo.”

The next day I cracked open the plastic t-tags and placed my feet into a fresh pair of Pumz as if they were Cinderella’s glass slippers. I was pretty damn jazzed.

As I strode down my path to work, a familiar sensation struck me; one of the socks was sliding down my heel. God shitmark dammit, what the hell?! The imbalance of bunching fabric pooling under the arch of my foot has always maddened me.. Ever since I can remember I’ve hated things bunching. Sleeves underneath a winter jacket? Couldn’t do it. Pant legs rolling up? Nuh uh! A scrunchie’s pooling, superfluous fabric around my wrist? Well, I do find scrunchies delightful... but there’s an exception to every rule! I guess I like things just so. Sue me!

Anyway, back to the sock bunching. I realized, in my passive-aggressive-Costco fury, I totally missed the fact that I grabbed the wrong size. Yup, I was so busy wondring what the fuck those people were doing in front of the Pumas that I forgot to check what size the socks I snake-grabbed were. Instead of securing those sweet, sweet size 6-8s I grabbed the oversized and cumbersome 9-11s. Ergfhfitljkbnoyfoucf!!! I know, you’re on the edge of your seat, right?

Now that there’s been a bit of time in between me and my sock snafu I’ve learned the lesson that lies within this inconsequential slip of the sock...err mind. The infinite lesson of keeping your eyes on your own paper! Nope, sorry that’s the wrong lesson. The real lesson is: life is too short and the walk is too uncomfortable to not learn how to not be a complete weirdo and speak up for your damn self.

People are not mind readers! Have I blown your mind? Despite hoping that people can follow the dots to the obvious writing on the wall that is your mind, they can’t. Sometimes we will be stuck in our heads. Our focuses are all so specific, our narratives so bespoke, that we sometimes forget to let people in on the stories running around in our minds. How can anyone meet your needs if you refuse to tell them what they are?!

If I had gotten my head out of the clouds long enough to politely ask the couple in front of the Pumas to kindly step aside, I wouldn’t be writing this blog post. You all would have been spared. I would know what Kirsten Dunst is going to do now that her husband was eaten by an alligator in South Central Florida. Check that show out, it’s bonkers. I wouldn’t have hobbled my way to work cursing crew top socks. I would have checked the sock size, carelessly debated how many wheels of cheese is too many, and gotten on with my life. The existential crisis could have been completely averted.

I think we all, at some point, feel invisible. These polarizing times can make everything seem heightened and VERY IMPORTANT, and we worry about having our voices heard, and where’s mine?! We all might be feeling the same way, we may all be feeling a little unseen. Maybe If we let others know what we needed we would all feel a little less translucent. If we weren’t afraid to ask perfectly harmless strangers to step aside for a moment, it could thwart this insanity. Maybe this isn’t something to parse at all. Maybe life’s as simple as saying “excuse me but I need to grab some socks.”

So in the spirit of simplicity and clear communication I urge you all to grab your socks by the elastics and speak up for yourselves. Maybe then we can get out of our heads and into a fresh pair of perfectly fitting socks.