September 2004

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Being single.

9/29/2004 in Randomness | 8 comments

There is no moral to this story. Only sheer embarassment.

I was going to blame it on the washing machine. Everyone does. I was folding my laundry, finishing up only to find exactly one black sock mocking me at the bottom of my white laundry basket. My only pair of black dress socks was now my single black dress sock, soulmate missing. What was I going to wear with my black slacks and black shoes tomorrow? This professional dress code for medical students was more trouble than I initially gathered.

I tossed through my clothes a second time. I retraced my steps to the laundry room. To the dryer. To the washer. Looked in the trash (in case I threw out the sock with the dryer sheet). Nothing. Looked under the bed. Under the sofa. In my sock drawer. What, did it just up and leave? Too uppity for my pitiful apartment, aye? Where the %$#@!? So, white socks tomorrow it is.

Tomorrow was this morning. I slid into my black slacks, and immediately, something did not feel right. I assumed a mini-wedgie or some other related pantie problem was involved. Nope. Was my shirt tucked in funny? Did my butt just get fat? Did I just sit on something? But I was running late and didn’t have time to investigate.

I was already in the parking garage before I couldn’t stand it any longer. I glanced around for a once over. No one was in yet. I undid my belt buckle and the buttons on my slacks, all the while wondering what I could possibly say to police officer who will bust me for a 311 violation—indecent exposure. Looked around once more, took a deep breath, reached into my pants, and (feeling rather pervy) pulled out…a sock. A single black dress sock from out of my black dress pants. Fabulous.

The big one.

9/18/2004 in Ponderance | 5 comments

There is a spider the size of a nickel outside my apartment. For the last few days, (s)he’s been daring this great web, stretching from the roof of the patio to the handrails of the walkway. All in all, it’s at least 5×4 feet. I imagine he fancies human prey or something of a similiarly large nature.

There are days when I get home and I see him spinning, fixing the corner wears and tears of leaves and such tossed there by the wind. And some days, the neighbor has unwittingly walked through the entire web, leaving only silky strands floating about (I picture him flailing wildly in panic). But without fail, the next morning, the web is back, the result of an all-nighter by Mr. Spider, no doubt. He is determined to catch The Big One.

And as much as I tease about his not-so-bright-ness, his gung-ho optimism and ambition surprises me. Inspires me, even. That this little (relative to me, but in actually fairly large) spider is unwilling to pack up and go just because of a little setback. Maybe he is failing to see the entire situation for its astronomical improbability, but he’s working it the best he knows how.

So a little part of me hopes him one of those geese in his web tonight. Then Mr. Spider will have his Big One, and I will at least be spared a feathered assault on my way to the mailboxes in the morning.