Gratitude: being thankful, having the desire or reason to thank somebody, to value something of quality, to understand the importance, meaning and significance of something.
Gratitude Monday: a loose rendering of gratitude, a list or just a few words to show appreciation for or recognition for big and small accomplishments.
Subject: Mismatch Socks
I’m one of the few people that actually enjoys doing laundry. An old friend said she liked seeing them swirl around in soapy water because when the clothes came out and she put them on it was like getting a new clean start. I personally don’t stand and watch the water swirl but I understood her point. Sometimes we look to anything to make us not feel so dirty inside.
I love the fresh Downy smell right out of the dryer. Warm blankets and clean sheets every Monday evening has been a ritual of mine for years. Not every part of laundry is pleasant for me. Washing and matching socks is tedious work that often requires Valium and several packs of cigarettes. The whole process is a dreadful fiasco that must be done or I’ll really be upset walking around with athletes foot and what not. Okay so, putting the load in I’m fine. After taking the load out of the dryer true tension begins. I’ve got all these socks that look very similar to one another. The slight differences are in length and rounded toes or squared toes but other than that they appear to be the same. This makes matching them difficult. I’ll spend what feels like hours trying to match socks. Just when I’m ready to chuck the whole thing I find a match. I’m thrilled, “Well, maybe I wont give up now. I’ll keep trying to match them.” Another hour seems to go by slowly without a match. I’ve hit a low, cursing inside, slamming square toes and rounded toes on the floor when suddenly I’ve got a match. I think to myself, I can do this. It wont take that much longer. Another hour goes by without a match. I’m pissed, then I find a match, another long wait with irritation increasing then I find a match. Over and over again I do this. It’s a frikin’ emotional roller coaster. When I finally abandon this debacle I’ve got 5 matches and 300 socks left without a match. I shake my head because I now believe that there really is a sock gnome that comes to take these nearly identical socks so that Aussie’s blood pressure can raise to the roof, come back down filled with hope then have those hopes dashes again. This gnome is a cruel something-something that visits every single time I do socks. After going through all of this imagine the expression of revolt when I pull the very last clean pair of socks out of the drawer. Damn! Damn! Damn! Stupid gnome! It’s a visit I do not look forward to.
How does the subject of mismatched socks find itself on a Gratitude Monday journal entry? Because there was a time when I did not have all that I needed. There was a time when I was homeless that socks seemed like a luxury, something that only happened when Christmas rolled around and housed people passed out mittens, socks and scarves. The way I worded that sounds rather ungrateful. I suppose there is an air of bitterness and resentment towards those who only think of the homeless when a certain day rolls around. Nevertheless, I needed those socks and thanked them for passing them out. There is a lot of bitterness that homeless people have because of how they are treated by the housed. There was a time in this city that the homeless were not considered citizens. People didn’t look you in the eye for fear that you’d ask them for something. When they did look at you it was with pity. Sometimes they would throw money at Mr. Austin and myself and keep on walking. I can not remember a time when anyone handed me a dollar bill. People usually threw it all waddled up so that it would travel to where they wanted it to go without them having to pick it up and hand it to us. Homelessness is a devastating blow to the ego. It can break the spirit in no time and break it so that repair is hard or impossible.
It is easy to take for granted the things you have until you no longer have them. Something as simple as a clean pair of socks, a clean pair of underclothes, a hair brush and basic household items like Kleenex can easily be seen as “basic” until you’re waiting for someone to come around and pass them out once a year.
Today, I have a home. I have food, shelter, clothing and a good support system. Now, when I don’t eat it’s because I choose not to eat. Now, if I don’t have clean clothing it’s because I simply didn’t load the washer. It is a warm comforting feeling to have the things and the people I need. So even though this stupid something-something gnome steals my nearly identical socks I am grateful every single time I slip them on.
Austin’s August
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