My cousin is a part-time nanny, which obviously exposes her to a different reality than mine, and she recently told me about something that blew, no kind of cracked open, my brain – MISMATCHED SOCKS.
The girl she takes care of got a new dresser set and of course Nanny (slash cook, housekeeper, sometimes maid – well, light dusting and some procastinatory silver polishing) was told to move over the princess’ clothes to the new furniture. (I’m the only real princess on the planet, but I acknowledge that some other people pretend to the title, for themselves or their kids.)
She was temporarily confused when she did the sock drawer – even after dumping out the old drawer and storage bin on the bed, she couldn’t get everything matched up. Then she realized that was the point!
Little Princess had Crazy Socks – they were made that way – they came that way. Cousin said, “They are so cute – she has different colored stripes, leopard socks, some with monkeys…”
I could hardly concentrate on what she was saying because my brain train derailed when she told me the socks don’t match.
Looking for patterns has always been my brain thing. Sometimes I exhaust myself looking for patterns that don’t work out – or I think I see patterns that are really just paranoia, through misperception – but I always have the pattern orientation. Which contributes to my craving for collecting numerous colors and varieties of things (shoes, jewelry, recently PAINTINGS) and maybe also for whatever insight I possess into human behavior – everybody is like some piece of somebody else, even if in another place and time, in my view, and I find that view interesting. In my 20s a nice psychologist (not all psychologists are nice but I have typically fired the ones who weren’t) told me it was a good thing, the ability to see patterns. After 20-plus more years of corporate America, seeing and trying to alert coworkers to patterns that nobody else acknowledges (really – sometimes the Emperor IS naked), I’m not sure I would choose the Matching trait at a swap meet.
So, but, thinking of Crazy Socks is my new mental ___...well, something shocking…not shock treatment…maybe colonoscopy? (LOL) It kind of pulls me apart a little bit and makes me refocus.
Who said that needed to feel good.