Socks

Yep. Socks.

A few months ago I read in one of The Books about how it's necessary to pack socks for the baby to go home in when you pack for the hospital.

I love socks. In my match.com listing, one of the main items that attracted Rich's attention was where you're supposed to list your favorite things and I listed Socks first. He loves socks too. He can go through 2-3 pair a day, and one night I counted over 100 pair of his clean socks that I was folding. To me nothing feels better than clean socks on clean feet. Summer annoys me because I wear No Socks.

So. Zoom to the past few weeks. Ever hear of nesting? I'm not nesting. RICH is nesting. He's tearing parts of the house apart, cleaning them out, bleaching, scrubbing, vacuuming, building. Me? I'm panicking over socks. Last Monday when it was discovered that I had begun dilating I told Rich it was ok because I should probably receive some socks at my work baby shower that night. Not ONE pair of socks. Ok, no big deal. There's time to buy socks. Yesterday I touched my Target gift cards repeatedly throughout the day as if they were talismans. Socks could be acquired with those.

This morning I had leakage that concerned me and caused the doc to tell me to come in for an exam. Let's check to see if the water has broken! Sure! WAIT!!!! I don't have the socks!! Would it be ok to send Rich to Target with me in the hospital? Honey, buy a six pack of socks? No. No fucking way. I get home from the doc, no water breaking, everything fine other than the same "Well, let's hope for a few weeks more but probably not..." and I grabbed my Target gift cards and went to buy socks.

It took me FIFTEEN minutes of staring at different socks in the infant sock area to find some I could live with.