FOUND IT!

365 Days of Thanksliving — Day 294

"I found it!" I shouted with an embarrassing amount of exuberance. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d actually laid eyes on it. Strangely, I let out a massive sigh of relief… over a sock. Yeah, a sock.

Were you thinking it was something important? Gotcha. Allow me to fill in the backstory, going way, way back.

Every single Saturday, since I was just a little tyke, my mother, the Drill Sergeant, would roust us all out of bed to clean the house. Nobody—and I mean NOBODY—was allowed to do a lick of anything else until the place met the Gloria Gold Standard. She white-gloved it all. Don’t you dare try to just dust around an object. She’d catch ya. Do it right the first time, and you were golden.

Whelp, I am my mother's son. For the longest time in my early marriage, I did my darndest to impose that same militant standard onto Danielle. Yeah, that wasn’t happening. Let’s just say her mom and dad had slightly different standards than mine.

After years of trying, I finally waved the white flag. When in Rome, right? Sometimes, though, even Rome needs a fall cleaning.

Anyway, for the past few weeks, I kept muttering to myself, "We’ve gotta get this family room cleaned." It wasn’t a disaster zone, but it desperately needed a deep clean—the kind where you actually move the furniture, wipe down the walls, and scrub the crevices. It was just getting to be… blech. Ya know?

So, that’s what we did. I grabbed two dusting cloths (one wet, one dry), asked Danielle to grab the sucky-monster (aka the vacuum), and kennel the pups. Cleaning the carpets in this house is a lesson in futility with boxers on the loose; they feel obligated to save us from the dreaded dirt devil every single time. (I know I’ve written about this before).

With the doggos safely behind bars, the wife and I went to town. I wiped and sucked, and she deshedded the furniture with one of those tiny scrapy-brush thing-a-ma-bobbers.

So…. About 45 minutes later—after getting adequately distracted by the Vikings-Bears game—we were almost done. Only one piece of furniture left: the barcalounger. I figured I’d take the easy way out, lean it way back, and just vacuum underneath.

That’s when I saw it: my long, lost sock. It and its mate were a Christmas gift from my daughter, but it’s been AWOL for God knows how long. I never thought to look inside the recliner. (We hardly ever sit in the thing).

Honestly, I’d given up on ever finding it. I assumed it had been sacrificed to the dryer gods. But for some inexplicable reason, I never tossed its mate. Chalk it up to laziness, delusion, or sheer stubbornness. But hey—tonight, they ride together again.

So, today I’m glad we finally did a deep clean in the basement. Not only does it look (and smell) infinitely better, but I found my prodigal sock. For that, I am truly thankful. Sometimes the silliest, smallest things are the perfect reason to give thanks.

What are you thankful for today?