Have you ever actually taken the time to think about how
many things become lost? The fabled lost
city of Atlantis? It's gone never to be
heard from again. Donald Trump's tax
receipts and Barack Obama's birth certificate?
Both lost and probably in the same lockbox somewhere. Tom Brady's Super Bowl LI jersey. It straight up disappeared out of his bag
after the game. Don't worry about it
though; the Texas Rangers ended up on the job searching for it. Wait, should we be concerned about the fact that the Texas Rangers
currently have nothing better to do than look for a used jersey? I mean, I watched a lot of 'Walker, Texas
Ranger' in my day and Chuck Norris was always investigating some kind of
kidnapping, drug trafficking, murder, or run-of-the-mill robbery. And then he'd use kung-fu to solve it. #Fact.
Back to the topic at hand, today was a very sad day as Ellie
lost something very near and dear to her heart (or her feet). That's right, Ellie lost a sock today. But not just any sock. She lost a sock from one of the only pairs
that actually fit her petite little feet.
The weird thing is that I have absolutely no idea where/how it
happened. I like to fancy myself to be a
relatively observant person. That being
said, there's normally a pretty big divide between how I fancy myself and reality. Once the disappearance of the sock was noted,
I found myself on a desperate hunt to reclaim the sock in the name of Ellie's
left foot.
 |
| Right sock sings, "I will remember you, will you remember me?" |
First things first, I had to retrace our steps in an attempt
to find the sock. Unfortunately that
process was easier said than done as Ellie and I had covered a lot of ground
this afternoon. Like any sane person
though, I started by retracing the steps nearest to me in proximity. Since Ellie and I had most recently been in
the hammock, I headed out to the backyard and began circling it in a desperate
attempt to locate the sock. Nothing
would give though. With that, I headed
back into the house to search every possible nook and cranny. And by that, I mean I basically moved a
bucket of paint from its home next to our basement door and shook out the
hammock to see if it would fall out.
About this time, I began a pure descent into madness coupled
with extreme paranoia. For example, I
began to think up stories for what had become of the sock. My favorite actually involves the sock
falling off Ellie's foot to the ground below as we exited the hammock (imagine a tortoise stuck on its back). In
this hypothetical tale, once the sock hit the ground, a bird of prey from up above
would dive bomb with great intensity, pick up Ellie's sock, and fly it back to
its nest to serve as padding for its young.
Slightly extreme? Yes. Imaginative?
Yes. Better than the alternative
and admitting I probably lost it? Yes.
 |
| Nothing's more American than lost socks... |
At least I know that the sock isn't out there alone on the
road somewhere. I know this because I
slowly drove the route that Ellie and I used for our walk today. Take it from me. Not much gets a person weirder looks than
slowly driving while gawking out the side window at the grass next to the
sidewalks. Well, maybe watching 'Walker,
Texas Ranger' in 2017 would get those same looks, but not much else. #DaddyWrite
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