watching expired appliances align

This is the space where I pretend to write something transcendent about socks.
This is the space where I mention Satan’s Laundromat.
This is the space where I comment about how I can never spell laundromat and I don’t know the word’s derivation.
This is the space where I get indignant about my socks never matching.
This is the space where I get overly descriptive about the "feel" of my boots with the unmatched socks.
This is the space where you roll your eyes and wonder what I’ve been smoking.
This is the space where I apologize that the focus of the last three months of my life has been about the quest for sneakers when it really should’ve been a thirty minute trip to Macy’s to buy new black socks (and maybe one dark grey pair).
This is the space where I act all sheepish about caring so much about those gosh-darn socks.
This is the space where you shake your head and stop reading.