I was going through pictures the other day and ran across photo after photo of socks. Socks on boxes, socks on floors and socks under tables. I was confused, but not surprised.
Random pictures of messy things is an occupational hazard of this slob blogging gig I have.
(One of the reasons I “help” my mother-in-law when she’s looking at pictures on my phone . . . )
Anyway, I realized the point of this maybe-it-will-make-a-blog-post series of pictures when I saw this one:
Right. It was January 7th, and my discipleship partner and I were supposed to meet. I was in one of those she-knows-me-she-loves-me-so-why-pretend-anymore moods, and didn’t play the I’m-hungry-let’s-meet-at-a-restaurant trick I’ve played so many times before.
But just before she was due to arrive, I did stop and look. And realized I couldn’t blame ALL of the mess on the fact that our Christmas decorations hadn’t been put up yet.
I decided to do the very least I could do.
Pick up socks.
And oh my word, there were more than anyone should ever have to pick up.
I would blame one certain person who tends to be our #1 Sock Tosser, but there was at least one pair he would never wear because he says they’re too tight.
Obviously, we have a Sock Problem in this family.
Thankfully, since I’ve sworn to be honest, this was a rare time when none of the socks scattered across the floor were mine.
Clearly, I didn’t bother to vacuum (and hadn’t vacuumed in a while).
Unfortunately, even though I’m proud of myself for not buying a new storage for Christmas decor when I already had one, I probably should have wiped it down. It sat outside for a very long time.
Oh. You were hoping for profound advice? Sorry. Maybe next time. This is just one of those examples of how someone can tell the depth of their friendship with me by how much I bother to clean up before they come over.
Y’all must be my BFFs.
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