Because someone has absolutely humongous feet, and totally not enough socks.
Because check it out.
Not enough socks. Ever. So many not enough socks that someone cannot ever close her sock drawer all the way. Ever.
It's even possible that this chest of drawers could go into the shipping container, to travel all the way from Warsaw Poland to Chicago Illinois, with the sock drawer stuck in a partly open position.
So what better Christmas morning excitement could there be, than to open the
(What a mess. Could someone please get someone an editor? Or an eraser at least?)
And looky here. Why, 7 days of socks! Because expateek can never have enough socks. Because she is,
In case you haven't read your (stolen) Bible lately, Greed is one of The Seven Deadly Sins. To wit:
Greed (or avarice, covetousness) is, like lust and gluttony, a sin of excess. However, greed (as seen by the church) is applied to the acquisition of wealth [socks] in particular. St. Thomas Aquinas wrote that greed was "a sin against God, just as all mortal sins, in as much as man condemns things eternal for the sake of temporal things [socks]." In Dante's Purgatory, the penitents were bound and laid face down on the ground for having concentrated too much on earthly thoughts [socks]. "Avarice" is more of a blanket term that can describe many other examples of greedy behavior.
Scavenging and hoarding of materials or objects [socks], theft and robbery, especially [of socks] by means of violence, trickery, or manipulation of authority are all actions that may be inspired by greed.
Santa has rewarded expateek with a set of 7 Deadly Sins socks so that she can contemplate her sinfulness seven days a week and entertain her
But it goes without saying that expateek feels guilty about this overabundance of socks. She feels terrible about buying yet another
What to do, what to do?
Well, there. expateek has confessed her sin. GREED = expateek. Full stop.
And what shall her penance be? expateek plans to go through the damned sock drawer, keep no more than half of what's in there, and give away the rest or -- good heavens no! -- throw them out. Throwing them away seems like a terrible waste and also a potentially fatal error, as expateek always has visions of a post-apocalypse world where ragged people wander the land, crying bitter tears that freeze on their faces in a cruel nuclear winter. And socks are of course entirely unavailable. Forever. No more socks. Just the thought reminds one of winter of 1777 at Valley Forge, where soldiers wrapped their bare, frozen feet in rags and left bloody footprints in the snow. Cheery thought, yeah?
So the lesson here is that you had better damn well hang onto the ones you've got, just in case. Don't say you weren't warned. Disaster planning is one of expateek's specialities! The more arcane the disaster, the more convoluted and random the preparations must be. So, stockpile socks. If you want, you can come over here and stockpile expateek's socks, because God knows we've got a few to spare. You can have the raggedy ones and the ones that have shrunk so much they leave elephantine wrinkles on your ankles. expateek will keep the good ones, thank you very much.
But hold it! expateek has just remembered! One cannot determine one's own penance. Someone else, wiser than oneself, must do so.
Unfortunately, Dr. Owl is on holiday this week. (He might be in rehab, but you didn't hear it from me. Let's just say ... a little bird told you. )
Reader, take the reins for a moment! Please! Hear my confession and mete out punishment. I crave absolution!