Darn it!

Over the past two months or so I’ve been practicing a lost art, that of darning one’s socks. It seems as thought at least one sock in every pair I own has sprung a leak of the toe variety.

I’ve never been a big believer in the importance of matching socks. If I can find two of relatively similar weight and height then I’m good to go. The fact that my left foot may be encased in some sort of pink floral concoction while my right is a black, blue and yellow high flying version of winged sea life doesn’t really make in impact on my dressing habits in the morning. With this said, in the past if a sock became holey I would toss the offender and keep it’s mate.

Lately though, I’ve instead dug through one of the sewing drawers at my mothers for great-grandma Blake or Imporato or whoever’s darning (what do you call it?) spindle ??? and sew that sucker up. And a funny thought comes to mind every time I stretch sock over spindle, I think of Little House on the Prairie.  Don’t ask me why, I just do. I think it is because until recently people took care of their items, mended them, maintained them because you couldn’t just go ahead and drop into Target for a replacement. Darning my socks has forced me to think about this in greater detail silly as it may sound.

My attention to detail when it comes to socks however, has carried over to the darning process. Nearly all of the socks I have mended now posses bright red stitches regardless of their color. Listen, I’m doing something practical not perfect. Perhaps my bright red stitches are a subconscious statement. A bright red declaration on my view of the world, capitalism, the materialist society in which we live…Or, it could just mean that the needle was in the red spool and I couldn’t be bothered to dig around for something else.


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