the land of the lost socks
Did anyone else grow up playing Pajama Sam? And did anyone else have an obsession for finding all of the lost socks?
(For the uninitiated (or for the kids who were too cool to play Humongous Entertainment computer games), Pajama Sam is a series of computer games about a kid who has adventures inside his bedroom closet. Basically it's like Narnia but without the lion, the witch, or the wardrobe, and has talking carrots, magnetic lunchboxes, and Darkness instead.)
It just so happens that as you are traipsing around Pajama Sam's closet you can try to find all of Sam's lost socks (his closet seems to swallow everything). As a kid, I thought this concept was funny. I don't really remember losing socks as much as wearing holes into the heels (always the heels--never the toes). It just never happened. Like ever.
But as a grown-up person, holy shenanigans! IT IS SO TRUE. All the things go missing all of the time. Socks. Shirts. More socks. Yoga pants. Don't ask me how these things can go missing in a one bedroom apartment with zero storage space and cinder block walls, but it happens. And it results in David in his infinite kindness helping me search all of the nooks and crannies (there are two) and never finding a single thing.
I just don't understand. It's like my wearable things are running away. I'm saddened by this fact because I generally try to treat my clothes well. I wash them frequently. I fold and hang them with care. I refrain from wiping my boogers on my shirt sleeves. In a nut shell, I do everything owners of clothing should do (except iron. I'm rarely pressed to iron anything).
In any event, I'm in the market for new yoga pants. And to you, my AWOL yoga pants with the grey stripes, I wish you a happy life (even though we can no longer lounge around together all day or snuggle up and eat ice cream under a blanket. Sniff). And if your new owner actually works out while wearing you, so be it. I'm not that jealous. I'll just find some new workout clothes to re-purpose into lounge wear.
It just so happens that as you are traipsing around Pajama Sam's closet you can try to find all of Sam's lost socks (his closet seems to swallow everything). As a kid, I thought this concept was funny. I don't really remember losing socks as much as wearing holes into the heels (always the heels--never the toes). It just never happened. Like ever.
But as a grown-up person, holy shenanigans! IT IS SO TRUE. All the things go missing all of the time. Socks. Shirts. More socks. Yoga pants. Don't ask me how these things can go missing in a one bedroom apartment with zero storage space and cinder block walls, but it happens. And it results in David in his infinite kindness helping me search all of the nooks and crannies (there are two) and never finding a single thing.
I just don't understand. It's like my wearable things are running away. I'm saddened by this fact because I generally try to treat my clothes well. I wash them frequently. I fold and hang them with care. I refrain from wiping my boogers on my shirt sleeves. In a nut shell, I do everything owners of clothing should do (except iron. I'm rarely pressed to iron anything).
In any event, I'm in the market for new yoga pants. And to you, my AWOL yoga pants with the grey stripes, I wish you a happy life (even though we can no longer lounge around together all day or snuggle up and eat ice cream under a blanket. Sniff). And if your new owner actually works out while wearing you, so be it. I'm not that jealous. I'll just find some new workout clothes to re-purpose into lounge wear.
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