I darn my socks.
They aren't nice socks. They aren't expensive or handmade. They're just some plain, boring, regular socks from some department store. And I don't darn them all that well (though it's not for lack of trying). But I darn them anyway. They were just normal almost-perfectly-good socks sitting there with holes in them, and it seemed like the thing to do. I suspect that this is one of those things where a person either immediately thinks something like, "Why, yes! But of course!" or else is left wondering why the sock-darner is so weird.
Those of you who fall into the former category will be happy to know that now, after a visit to my parents' house last weekend from which I came away with a new (but decidedly quite old) darning egg, I'll at long last be properly equipped.
1 comment:
I wish I knew how to darn! A stray nail sticking up in the wood floor gave me several socks with holes in them. (Glad you found my blog, btw, because it led me to yours!)
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