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.