If I’m crazy, at least Carol Anne is too

Barb and I went to the ballet this week. Four short pieces. Each one perfect in its own way. Still thinking about Genus, which was brilliant. About figuring out how the body works, what it can do, what it should do. About individualism and becoming part of a community. At least those were the themes that I took away. Possibly the best dance movements I have ever seen.

As we were talking about our daily minutiae, during intermission over the mandatory glass of bubbly, Barb happened to mention that she needed to organize her sock drawer. I was taken aback. How can a sock drawer become disorganized? One pairs the socks as part of the laundry process and puts them away, happily coupled and awaiting mutual use. But NO! Barb’s socks are unpaired in her sock drawer. Deposited uncoupled and alone, willy-nilly. Holy Mother of God. I’ve never heard of such a thing. “I don’t think I could sleep in a house like that,” was my only logical response.

On the way to the subway the next morning, I thought about Barb’s willy-nilly socks, and my reaction was confirmed. I could not sleep if I had unpaired socks in my drawer. I could not rest if Graeme’s socks were unpaired. I started thinking about what other minor bits of chaos would prevent me from sleeping: a cupboard partially open in the kitchen, a towel hanging askew in the bathroom, a painting hanging off-level.  If I knew about them, I would have to get out of bed and fix them.

Am I unglued?

At lunch with Carol Anne yesterday, she 100% agreed. She A) could not fathom how a sock drawer existed where socks were not paired at all times (weird orphan socks from the dryer the only exception); and B) concurred that she could not sleep if she were aware of unpaired socks in her house.

And here’s how I know she wasn’t just humouring me: She told a story. Her partner wears just one kind of sock: plain white sports socks. At the gym recently, he noticed that one sock was tight and the other was slouchy. Reporting this to Carol Anne, she immediately had to go to his sock drawer, take apart all the sock pairs, and ensure that tight went with tight, slouchy with slouchy.

I feel much better now.

1 thought on “If I’m crazy, at least Carol Anne is too”

  1. Sure, but here’s why you can put that out of your mind. If ever there’s ever a drawer not quite closed, a door ajar, a light left on, an appliance not set back to its resting state, or a sock without company, I’ll fix it before you have a chance to notice. You can go about your business untroubled by such things, and a thousand other besides.

    Count on it.

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