The Sock Tossed Back into the Hamper

As you have probably noticed, the last entry isn't my usual. Rather it's a creative writing prompt that I typed up some time ago. I can remember what I must have been thinking, because I relived a fight with my ex from several years ago while reading it. The only thing is that it didn't end as wonderfully as the story implies. Analyze it any way you want, but I like to think that I just like happy endings.

This next entry is another creative writing prompt that I've started some time ago and was able to generate ideas from when I looked at it earlier this evening. I hope you like it. I'll be doing more in the future.

The Sock Tossed Back into the Hamper

Wha…what? What’s happening? Silence. Aw man! Why am I back in here again? I already went through this! I don’t get why am I in here again? I thought for sure I was just in the laundry basket, fresh from the dryer smelling spring fresh again. Wait a minute. I’m still warm! Geez! Maybe I can wiggle over to the side to see what’s going on. Umph! Umph! Umph! Nothing but wall. Augh! This is just not my day.

I don’t understand what happened. Let me think back here for a minute. Hmm. I was here earlier today. I was put in here last night after being in those work boots all day. Whew! It was such a relief to be freed from that foot when the time came. I didn’t smell too good either. Ewe! Neither did my partner. We both got to hang out for a while, chit chatting until we were picked up this morning. I remember having an awesome hot bubble bath and hanging out with the other socks and underwear. The little woman’s ankle crew sock was flirting with me again. I think she likes me. Hmmm. Ahem. Yes. Well, back to what’s happening here.

Our soaking lasted for a while, and then the scrubbing began. I’m sure I’ve got bruises where I never had bruises before. Ouch! Then the dryer. I wish I could just lay out in the sun, like my cousin a few streets down, just flapping in the breeze. But noooo, I have to tumble in the hot dryer getting dumped on top of and buried alive by the rest of the undergarments. It’s not as exciting as you might think. Believe me. The best part of the whole dryer thing, though, is when the lady forgets us down here. It doesn’t happen every time, but it’s nice once in a while. After all of the soaking, swashing of the water, the scrubbing, and the tumbling, it’s nice and relaxing to just lay low for a while and get to know the newcomers, if there are any, or catch up on some old friends and what kind of adventures they’ve had. It’s really quite refreshing.

The last thing I remember from my weekly ritual, after the dryer of course, was lying back in the basket wondering who my new partner would be. The guy I had last time was pretty easy to deal with, but the one before that was a real snob and major perfectionist. I couldn’t stand the guy. I was never straight enough for him, and I swear, the foot was doing on purpose too. It seemed like no matter how hard I tried to stay in line, the heal kept twisting and the toes kept bunching up. It was quite a chore trying to be perfect. Sniff.

I was just laying there waiting in the basket, chit chatting with whomever ended up nearby while we waited to be matched with another sock. I couldn’t help but daydream during this pairing-up time. I was imagining getting matched up with the cute girl from two weeks ago. I really felt we hit it off, yet she never called me like she said she would. Eventually, time moved on and no other sock like me was left. I was alone in the basket with a woman’s ankle sock and a boy’s tube sock. No man’s tube sock was left for me to pair up with, at least not in the basket.

I could see the guy from the other week sitting on the edge of the table. He didn’t look too good, for I could see a hole in his toe. Poor sucker. So much for being perfect. I wouldn’t want to be in his place right now. His only options are in the ragbag, which I heard is pure torture, or the trash, which is worse. I actually felt bad about how I had said about him expecting such perfection from me. However, I never found out what happened to him, because I ended up here, back in the hamper along with the woman’s ankle sock and boy’s tube sock. Perhaps next week I’ll get to be paired up. Until then…