I wear socks to work that have holes in the heels. I don’t know this until my feet feel sweaty in my shoes.
The cursor blinks blindly at me.
I need to buy new socks, but I also know that there are many pairs of socks, separated by tumultuous throws, in laundry baskets around the house. The kids look for soccer socks or favorite t-shirts and the laundry gets churned up in the laundry basket like muffin dough: mix it too much and it gets tough. I folded a load of laundry where I had 8 different socks as half of 8 pairs. The other halves are apparently still needing to be washed.
I have written a few posts that feel not quite complete. They are complete, but they are more of a diary of my emotions than an idea to share. I’d like to post them just to have them held somewhere I can see them. Posting them privately almost feels as though I’m hiding from myself.
The cursor blinks blindly at me, and I blink back.