Monday, October 6, 2008

Socking My Drawers

I've re-arranged my bedroom four times over the past six weeks. Mostly this just involved moving or shifting my bed, but the last time I moved the dressers around to give the space an entirely new orientation.

I have two dressers in the room. The big one is the main repository for my clothes. From the second, smaller, crappy one, I only use the top drawer. It holds my white athletic socks. Not the formal work socks or the black casual athletic socks. Just the white ones. You wouldn't think I'd need an entire drawer just for white athletic socks, but I do. Ever since the unfortunate blister incident of last January I've taken my sock situation very seriously. (According to my ex, the blister incident was a catalyst for the dissolution of my marriage, but that's another story.) I have six different kinds of white athletic socks which are worn in various combinations depending on season, level of tennis activity, and leisure needs.

The second, smaller, crappy dresser used to be reserved for some of my ex-wife's things, and when she moved out I moved my white socks into it. In the most recent moving-around it has been recruited to sit in front of the window, where the cats perch on top of it to watch "kitty TV."

Here is why I call it the "crappy" dresser. The drawers don't fit well, so when you open the top drawer too far it makes a sudden jump down as if it's going to fall. It hangs there precariously like Indiana Jones hanging off the edge of a cliff. All of the contents of the drawer slide forward which upsets the delicate arrangement of my socks. It also rubs itself in some wrong way so that sawdust and wood shavings collect when you open the drawer.

The other day I opened the drawer to get out my tennis socks for a match I had in about 20 minutes. The drawer made like it was going to fall, so I reacted instinctively with my lightning-quick hands to catch it. Only it didn't fall and my hand cracked against it. My right hand. It opened a cut between my index finger and middle finger and the area started to swell. Fuckity Fuck Fuck Fuck! That's one of my playing-tennis hands, I thought. And I only have two. Godfuckingdammit!! Twenty minutes before a match.

I washed out the cut, put some antibacterial ointment on it, patched it up with a band-aid, and hoped the swelling wouldn't affect my tennis too much. During the warm-ups I tried about three different band-aid options before I found one I liked. Then I went out and won my seventh straight match of the indoor season. I played another tiebreak and won (7-0), bringing my consecutive tiebreak winning streak to eight. (I thought of putting a counter on my website for this, but then I'm afraid I'll jinx it.) Today, two days later, the cut is healing but there's a black and blue (and yellowing) blotch between my knuckles.

So that's it for the dresser. My ex's former dresser has hurt me for the last time. It's dead to me. I plan to replace it as soon as I have some time to go furniture shopping. My other dresser is too full anyway, and it might be nice to spread out my clothes over two whole dressers.

So if anyone's looking to get rid of a competent dresser, I'm in the market for one.

Must be good with socks.

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