Sock Hop

At the beginning of March, American Airlines threatened to eradicate all my frequent-flier miles because I haven’t flown them in so long. Somehow, I don’t think it’s possible I haven’t flown them in a couple years, but whatever. My R&R had been canceled in January and I had a flight scheduled but it went kaput and to avoid losing the miles, I placed a $35 order from Walmart.

I felt there was a chance I’d have them by my birthday, and still I wait …

I ordered two bottles of conditioner, which was a mistake because of rules for shipping liquids. It was too much. Still, sometimes they slip through, but after getting a random refund from Walmart, I went to check the order and it appears it got turned around. Oh well, so much for that.

Because, though, nothing is ever shipped together, I am still awaiting a package of socks. These are not special socks; they were just socks enough to push me to the free shipping level. I really didn’t need socks so much as I did $35 in merchandise, and shippers have drastically eliminated things that they’ll ship to me, such as Junior Mints. No dice on candies, so I settled for socks. I think they have polka dots. As of Memorial Day, I have not seen these socks.

The socks, however, have seen the world. In checking their journey so far, they’ve covered more territory than a Flat Stanley. They started near Tampa, then ventured through Chicago, and Cincinnati before heading overseas, where they visited Bahrain before going to Copenhagen and Vilnius. Not finding me there, apparently they decided to head back to home, albeit not in a direct path. They’ve now meandered through their domestic stops again, but the last known update was on April 5.

Yes, life dependent on the diplomatic pouch is as glorious as it seems. I recently feasted on candy corn that had been mis-shipped to someone else; it was supposed to be chocolate. When the customer informed the shipper of the mistake, they told him to keep the candy and assured him he’d get the chocolate. (NOTE: this entire story has taken place in a fairly short time frame that started long after my socks went abroad -- long enough for the candy corn to be eaten, which, admittedly, didn’t take as long as it should have). It eventually arrived, but it was not only wrong, but the box was bashed to heck and had gotten soaking wet somehow. (It had been clearly marked “store in a cool dry place.”) So this is what we overseas put up with for a taste of home.

Hope springs eternal and I’ve just placed a Target order. According to their annoying little happy update messages, they (because there will likely be more boxes than items ordered, go green team!) are scheduled to arrive any moment but in reality, we lose track of everything once it gets thrown into a postal sack and onto a plane bound for overseas. The shipping history mutes; it’s like it’s circled to the dark side of the moon.

The bison's back

Still, one day, I will eventually get mail. It’s always a surprise because by the time the little automated “You’ve got mail!” email arrives, I’ve completely forgotten what I’ve ordered. It’s like Christmas all over again, except Christmas packages usually arrive well past the new year.

It will be a happy day when the socks arrive. (I don’t need them; that’s just how boring my life is right now.) They’ll almost double the number of socks I have, which, sadly has been diminishing. Baghdad is mean on clothes, and I’ve had a couple pairs bite the dust, including cute socks I just got in Belarus.

That made it all the more painful when one of my cool Belarus socks with bison on them disappeared on laundry day. The laundry is down the hall and I traipsed up and down, assuming I’d either left it in the dryer or dropped it, but I could not find it. I’d bring a lot of clothes, and I kept rifling through them, trying to find the little guy. No dice. I’d washed the sheets and convinced myself it had stowed away in the deep pockets, so I double checked there, but it still didn’t appear.

I’ve gotten better about not panicking or freaking out over stupid little things, and, as cool as these socks are, they are stupid little things and I just knew that the little guy had to be somewhere. I kept looking for maybe two weeks and he didn’t turn up and then I went on R&R. I mean, I live in a one-bedroom apartment. There aren’t many places to hide.

Finally, last week, I went to wash my sheets again and when I pulled up the bottom one, there he was. Static cling had gotten him. Guess I should order some dryer sheets.

On second thought, nope. They might wind up in Copenhagen.