Or a sloppier, alternate version of myself who comes and goes when I'm away?
It seems like I pick up my socks every day and toss them in the dirty laundry hamper.
Yet every day, there's five or six socks to pick up.
Possibly more if I were to check under the coffee table.
Or consider that some might be freshly cleaned socks dropped during the walk from dryer to bedroom.
I struggle with getting even.
And as obsessive as I've become in this old age about hand washing or trimming random beard hairs that emerge in conflicting directions from the main mass, you'd think I'd be the same with socks.
(The grammar checker says there should be a period and not a question mark at the end of that opening sentence but in my mind it's a huge question, maybe needing two or three question marks.)
Topics like this happen when one falls asleep on the couch at 7:00pm, awakes at 11:00pm and decides rather than going back to sleep, to stay up a while and make up for the lost evening hours.
Or when you think that the previous content might be a little too heavy for a mostly self-deprecating soul.
Or when you are appreciating the cool of a late evening following a series of too many extremely hot days and evenings.
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