Today I darned a sock. This is not another piece about how we locked-down urban life-forms are all learning new skills, especially homely ones like making sourdough. It is an exploration of the psychology behind that act. I have never darned a sock in my life; it never even occurred to me. Socks are cheap and (until now) readily available — if one gets a hole, throw it away and buy more! (I do at least have the thrifty/practical protocol of wearing only generic black socks, so that singletons can always find new matching mates.)
But is a new mindset creeping into my entitled, spoiled, consumerist brain? I find myself stopping to think before using something up or throwing something away — will that be easy to replace, with all the stores closed and Amazon deliveries running late? Or alternatively, is that thing even needed? I’ve worn nothing but jeans and thrift-store tops for nearly two months now, some of them in the final stages of viability. Two favorites are fraying at the cuffs and collar. In the past, I’d permit myself a foray to our excellent local thrift store to replace them. But even if that were possible now, it doesn’t seem necessary; my remaining wardrobe is ample for waiting out a pandemic at home.
I only get antsy when I find empty shelves at the grocery store, for those items are truly essential. We’re assured there are no real shortages, just supply-chain disruptions, panic buying and delayed restocking. But having never seen a grocery store picked clean before (except when a blizzard is forecast, and then only briefly), I admit this causes me to panic a little — though I try not to contribute to the problem by over-buying and hoarding.
So, what I am doing, increasingly consciously, is examining my landscape and deciding what is truly necessary and of worth, in these conditions in particular, but also in the post-pandemic future. There are deeper layers to explore; I am only scratching the surface with my tiny exercise in self-awareness, darning a sock.
Linnetontheleaf 
Leave a comment