Socks...

The workers (ok, ONE worker) started yesterday on the main roof of the house. It was a hot windless day with deep blue skies and nary a cloud on the horizon. I felt sorry for the lone man up on the roof - it must have been blazing hot! Even we in the house, fans going on full blast, still wilted - what more the poor guy! All invitations to come in for a spell, drink some ice water etc were turned down politely with a smile.

To get the back room ready, I had to do some serious clearing. Found lots of bags full of old socks - KH's straggly grey office numbers, colourful pink, red and yellow socks with Pooh on the ankle, pom-poms on the rear. If you lined the colourful socks up from smallest to biggest, you could tell the story of my children's lives. This one worn by Gillian when she was in Australia, that one worn by Isaac as a baby. The nice white ones with frills worn only once by Gillian as flower girl at my sister's wedding. Those tiny red sneakers were hand-me-downs from Isaac, to Owain, Cait and so on.

The cotton on the majority had snagged into little balls, the elastic was loose and threads were sticking out everywhere. I threw away the bulk of these - the grotty-looking sports socks yellowed with age especially! But could not bring myself to throw away a bunch of the children's socks. I tell myself it's because they will need this when they go to Japan in November. But who am I kidding. It's all about me - not being able to throw away these little booties and socks because of sheer sentimentality. I'll probably end up buying new socks for the lot of them. And these old ones are likely to go into a bag, stuffed in a storeroom I guess will never see light again until its time for one more clearing deep into the future.

Will I throw them away next time?

Nahhh...