Put A Sock In It

I once knew a man who lived by the sea. We met when we were children and knew each other’s families very well. We spent our summers on the island exploring; however, the frantic pace of the summer kept us from truly knowing each other.

As the summers went by, he made an effort to spend more time with me. I was flattered by his attention and devotion and made room for him in my life. One thing led to another and I agreed that it made sense to get married.

The years were not kind to us. We did not grow together, but instead indulged our differences. I wanted children; he did not. I enjoyed parties; he did not. He wanted his liquor; I did not. He loved his cards; I did not. Nevertheless, we continued together because I thought that he loved me.

Each night before bed he would take off his socks one at a time and then put them on his cap. The socks were not of good quality, but they had no holes. They were brightly hued and somewhat garish. The cap was a faded blue and crumpled. The visor was stained and it had seen better days and nights. The first time I noticed this eccentric behavior, I said nothing, but as the ritual continued I became perturbed.

“Why do you take your socks off each night and then put them on your cap?” I asked one night. He turned to me with that silly grin and then went to sleep. I decided to forget that I ever asked, but it was impossible. Each night I tossed and turned, driven mad by the thought that this was going on. Soon all I could think about when I saw him was his strange ritual. His strange behavior made him a stranger.

It was not long after that when I started having thoughts of ending this silly habit of his myself. I decided that when he next went out I would hide his cap. Absent a cap there was no way he could continue doing as he had, and the socks would return to their rightful place.

That night, after he took off his socks one at a time, I grinned to myself. The ritual would not be completed; I had put an end to this nonsense. As I was about to leave the room I watched from the corner of my eye as he put them on his cap. “How?” I wondered, “how did he find the cap?” I knew I had hidden it in a place where he could never find it. It was so well hidden that even the mice could not reach it. That night I went to bed scowling.

The next day I had another plan and everything went perfectly, yet that night he still managed to take off his socks one at a time and then put them on his cap. This made me angry as I had watched my plans fail one after the other, day after day. I could not stop his nightly ritual. No matter how many times I destroyed or hid his cap it appeared before bed.

Now I realized that no matter how I tried I could not stop him; I watched his ritual with a strange fascination. I knew it would happen again; I could not stop it. Day after day I looked to end this habit of his. Suddenly it came to me. It was the only way.

Never again did that man take off his socks one at a time, and never again did he put them on that cap.

I made up for lost time and enjoyed the parties, and to fill my days I took up teaching. I was right I really do love children and now my life is full of joy. Time passed quickly and now I have a friend. When he moved in I threw out those socks.