A peek into the Windswept Life:
Monday. A.M. Early.
Scene: a Windswept Office. Mr Windswept is working at his desk. Mrs Windswept stands by, arms full of laundry, en route to the utility room from the bedroom.
Mrs Windswept: “How did you find your cashmere socks then?”
Mr Windswept: “I didn’t know that I had.”
Mrs Windswept: (perplexed by his response) “What?”
Mr Windswept: “I didn’t know I had had them on yet.”
Mrs Windswept: (holds up extremely dirty socks) “These.”
Mr Windswept: “Oh those…. fine.”
Mrs Windswept: (cautiously) “Good…. um… I thought that they were for best only. Or days when you feel in need of a cuddle. We did discuss it…”
Mr Windswept: “Well I didn’t know what they were. It was dark. I just put my hand in the drawer, and out they came. I thought they were the other socks that you knitted for me. I’ve been doing DIY in them and all sorts.”
Mrs Windswept: (darkly) “I know.”
Mr Windswept: “They were very comfortable.”
Mrs Windswept: (relenting) “Well, I suppose you really did need a cuddle on Sunday when the heating leaked…”
Mr Windswept: “I did.”
Mrs Windswept: (patting tummy) “Well, can we agree not to do it again, or they won’t last very long at all – and they took me a whole 10 months to gestate, they’re my babies!”
Mr Windswept: “Well, you’d better keep them in another drawer then.”
So, what do I do? Keep his socks in a drawer not designated “Sock drawer?” or simply teach him to spot cashmere at twenty paces? (like any good knitter could)
But really, what kind of hands cannot distinguish between pure cashmere and common-or-garden Regia 25% nylon sock yarn?! It might be thought that pure cashmere would be wasted on such a husband… that perhaps he just doesn’t deserve such care and consideration…
Well, at least they were deemed to be “very comfortable.”
It could have been worse.