A few months ago, I bought new socks - "new" as in freshly-bought, not "new" in the sense that I've never owned a pair of socks in this particular style before. Because, to be sure, they're exactly like all my other socks: Short. White. Hanes. They've got grey patches on the heels and on the toes. You've probably seen them before. As in... on my feet. For the last four years.
Which is great. I love having socks that are all the same. In general (you should know), I crave any sort of consistency whatsoever. At Taco Bell, for instance, you will never see me order anything but a Grilled Stuffed Burrito. When I was kid, I ate Cinnamon Toast Crunch every morning for seven years straight. And yes, I've been wearing the same style of socks for the last four years.
This isn't limited to just food and footwear, mind you. There are many, many more examples, but alas... one must always save material for future blogs, yes?
However, there's one problem: These "new" socks I bought are clearly "new-er" than the "old" socks from days of yore. Sure, they're the same in style (re: Short. White. Hanes.), but the "new" socks are brighter and whiter than the "old" socks, which have become grey and worn. Even more discouraging than this, an "old" sock will often be paired with a "new" sock. And Lord knows I can't wear both on my feet.
So what do I do? I set the new sock aside, find two old ones, and put them on my feet instead. I wouldn't dare wear two new socks. Why not? Because they must be saved for special occasions, of course!
Such as? Well, if I ever attended the Governor's Annual Gala-Ball, I would - yes - wear a tuxedo and... ? My li'l, white booty-socks! And naturally, some Foreign Diplomat would insist that I raise my pantlegs for him, so he could see what socks I was wearing. "Oh, fantastic! You wore the new ones," the Foreign Diplomat would say. "Cheerio for not wearing those dastardly grey and worn ones from days of yore!"
It should be noted, however, that this plan is never fool-proof. Eventually, laundry time (for clothes and underwear) comes around and I realize I haven't even worn the new socks. At all. They're just sitting in a big pile - un-worn and under-appreciated.
I don't know why I do this.
But for too long, I hold off on ideal things just because I don't think the time is right.
It's got to be the perfect moment.
I wonder how many times I've missed great experiences because I'm too busy waiting for "the perfect moment."
And this isn't just socks, people. There are many, many more examples, but alas... one must always save material for future blogs, yes?