“What’s that sock doing on the dresser?”
I suspected I knew the reason; I was almost afraid to ask; but I posed the question to Gerry first thing this morning anyway.
“I need to do your father’s trick,” he replied.
This sock that somehow landed atop my dresser was no ordinary sock. It was one of a pair he purchased for his hiking adventures. It was a wool sock; a thick sock; and yes, an expensive sock.
A few days ago I had occasion to open up a trunk that had belonged to my parents and it prompted a meandering afternoon down memory lane. During that time I told hubby about my dad’s habit of darning his own socks. He kept an old cardboard box that once contained chocolates in the middle drawer of his dresser. The chocolates were long since consumed and that worn box ended up containing darning needles, scissors, slips of various coloured yarns, and a burnt out incandescent light bulb. I can picture Dad sitting on the edge of his bed, a darning needle in his hand, his attention on repairing the hole in a sock that he had inserted the light into.
“Do you know how to do it?” I asked Gerry.
He smiled an impish grin: “I guess I will find out.”
Now, I could have kept my mouth shut; perhaps I should have kept my mouth shut. Instead somehow, after a conversation that had me offering helpful tips and suggestions, the entire thing came back to where I knew it would when I first saw the sock on the dresser: me volunteering to attempt to darn the sock.
I wonder if YouTube has any video lessons about darning? I wonder if I can even find a burnt out–or not–incandescent light bulb anywhere?
It’s a new week and I have a new challenge. Woo hoo.