After sleeping, what activity occupies the greatest percentage of my days? During college, it was definitely studying. In NYC, commuting would probably take the prize. In France, considering the thimble-sized washer-dryer I have, that doesn't do either well, I would have to say laundry. I am constantly putting in a load (about the equivalent of 2 sweaters and a pair of socks), hanging clothes up to dry, folding them, ironing them. Now I understand why Europeans have the reputation of wearing the same clothes everyday. I have become quite meticulous about my clothes, sacrificing fashion for cleanliness, hiking up my pants when it's raining and tip-toeing across our garden which is currently trapped under the remnants of a MASSIVE snowstorm that dumped over 2 inches of snow on the Parisian region, shutting down roads and airports. (wusses) So, Parisian weather intolerance being a whole other chapter, the goal is to have as few dirty clothes as possible. Despite my gargantuan efforts, I haven't been able to rid myself of the Anglo-Saxon obsession with clean underwear and socks, and thus the hamper fills up quickly.

Over the past year, I have lost 12 socks, their widows and widowers huddled together in a drawer that has since been deemed "the sock cemetery" by my roomie. Most of the newly single socks are my best ones, trouser socks in black, brown, and cream, poofy ones that are pratically slippers, sleek ribbed black ones, and the little ones that fit just inside shoes to give the illusion that no socks are being worn; all rendered completely useless by the escape of their partners. However, one race of socks seems immune to the temptation of escape. They are the blue socks. The ones that come in the package with the white, gray, and black cotton socks that my mom buys me every year for Christmas. Not only do they never abandon each other, but they are infatigable. They stay soft and full while the others develop holes in the heals and toes, or become stiffened by the lack of fabric softener to the point where they are nearly impossible to pull over my inflexible feet.

I long to wear these pinnacles of sock excellence, yet what occasion calls for blue socks? I can't wear them with my dress shoes because they are truly unchic. Black shoes? Yuck. Sneakers are a no go, for I only wear sneakers for exercise and, as I learned from Mr. Schilstra, my first gym teacher, sweat can make the dyes in colored socks run and turn our feet strange colors. With my boots? They are too thick. So, the best socks of the drawer have been relegated to emergency status, used only when all other socks are indisposed. And thus, I make reference to Jet Li's screenplay of The Kiss of the Dragon, by saying sometimes the best are also the worst. It's quite sad actually.