I am guessing you are wondering how pride relates to socks. Just hang on and I will explain.
Pride and socks. . . yes, socks. I finally made a pair of socks that fits the Hub! After close to a year of carefully knitting and then unraveling six times (yes, I was learning as I went and socks are slow going for me), I finally completed a pair of cozy wool socks. A pair that is even and sized to fit the Hub’s gargantuan ‘Hubly’ feet.
It was past one in the morning when I finished, and I was delighted that I had managed to get them complete before the Hub woke up at 2am to head in to work and start his week. The start of the week is hardest for him. The job is a job that pays the bills, not a career that feeds his soul. It is a option he turned to after the recession and the subsequent decline of our business. His hours are not the best but he goes in every day, no matter what, because he loves us all so. And so any small thing I can do to add a bit of happiness to his workweek is worth my effort. Even socks.
(can you see the pride creeping on in?)
I had placed his new pair of socks on his dressing chair, next to his side of our bed, just before I fell into the pillow. I remember hearing the alarm go off at two this morning. I thought, “I can tell him about his socks!” But I didn’t. And the next thing I knew it was 7am and I realized I must have gone back to sleep before talking to him. I looked over at the dressing chair and the socks were gone.
“Yeah! He went to work a little happier in his new socks,” I thought. And then I got up, narrowly missing the morning dive-bomb attack our youngest and spriest cat shares with me at the start of each day. To our little cat, mornings are magical. I wake and walk through the house, opening curtains and windows, and soon the house is full of sunshine and cool morning breezes. It is his favorite time of day.
You may be wondering why I started this post talking about socks and now we are discussing the morning antics of our little cat. That is because they are related, I think.
And so back to the socks. I walked around to the Hub’s side of the bed to open the window and stepped onto the socks. The fruit of months and months of labor and love for the Hub were on the ground, under the dressing chair, with a cat mouth-sized moist spot on them. And hopping about on the bed in sheer morning mirth was our little cat. Coincidence? Unlikely.
At least the love and care I poured into those socks got the opportunity to make two family members happy, but the Hub is at work now and his socks are waiting for him when he gets home this afternoon.
And me? Well I learned to check my pride at the door and focus on what is important – helping my husband and making my little cat happy.
