Village Squire, 1978-12, Page 32"great sock hunt", when we, as a family,
set out to gather and match socks for the
wash. Tell me, how can they disappear like
that? Is there a mechanical sock monster
hid somewhere in every home that gobbles
up only one sock to every pair? There has
to be, for where else would they go?
This went on for quite a few years until
one day, in the middle of a hunt,
completely frustrated at not finding five
partners, I suddenly let out a piercing
scream. Unable to contain myself any
longer, having reached the end of my
patience, the pitch of my voice rose to such
a crescendo that four crystal glasses on our
buffet shattered to pieces. In about two
seconds flat, the whole family surrounded
me. I came crawling out from underneath a
bed completely dishevelled with dusty
socks clutched in one hand and gum
wrappers in the other. I must have looked
like the sock monster we had been
searching for throughout the years, for
dead silence ensued and "en masse" the
family disappeared as quickly as they had
appeared. The sight of their mother
crawling out from underneath a bed,
foaming at the mouth and with a wild look
in her eyes must have been too much.
However, one must take strong measures
to enforce strict laws and it did work. From
that day on, socks got pinned together from
moment of discard and believe it or not, the
children even went as far as to make what
they appropriately called a "Sox Box", one
for every bedroom and proceeded to drop
their dirty socks in it. Would wonders ever
cease? Why hadn't Dad and I as adults
thought of it? We could only conclude that
as far as socks went, we both had a mental
block, we hated them so much.
After that incident. we became a very
close-knit family. Dad and I decided that
our children really "dug" us (as they
would say) and our eccentricities.
Therefore, we overlooked a few of theirs.
Nevertheless, as you well know, in
everyone's life little hurdles always seem
to present themselves and the next hurdle
presented itself in a very attractive parcel.
We called her "Flossie". She was three
months old, spayed and with all her shots
when she entered our lives. She was what
Dad referred to as a "Heinz 57 Varieties".
I'd say she was part Spaniel and part
Beagle but I could be wrong. She was white
and fluffy with taffy coloured markings and
extremely fetching (meant literally and not
figuratively as you will see).
We were enjoying Flossie and life was
extremely pleasant when all of a sudden,
we came home after all of us had been
away for the day to find that Flossie had
become the Mechanical Sock Monster we
thought had disappeared forever.
Our pet, whom we had thought to be
sweet and innocent had invaded every Sox
Box in all three bedrooms. She had brought
them all down to the family room (she must
have made 50 trips), had chewed the toes
or heels of one of every pair (why rtot a
complete pair? You tell me.). Then she had
fr
44oI2i'days
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Silk flower arrangements
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SHOPPE
WINGHAM -- PHONE 357-2023
30 Village Squire, December 1978
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Phone 527-1880
15 Main St., Seaforth
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