The Incomprehensible Weirdness of the Universe

Where do lost socks go?

It’s one of those paradoxes of the universe. One of God’s best jokes on humankind…

I’ve spent the last few months, in between bouts of plastering, painting, building, etc., throwing out boxes and bags and more boxes and bags of accumulated stuff. The heck with garage sales and taking to some collection center or whatnot, I’ve just been savagely purging stuff.

Now, here’s the paradox: we have less room for stuff tha n before I began “savagely purging” stuff. Now, where once two of the rooms downstairs were relatively free of stuff and could be used for, well, living in, there is almost no room to walk because boxes and boxes of other stuff have drifted out into the open and are now crowding out any human use of those rooms.

Upstairs is just as bad. As soon as an empty space is created, twice as much stuff creeps in under cover of darkness to crowd out human use of space.

What’s going on here?

You know, the really weird thing is that even as stuff creeps out of hiding places in some alternate universe to doubly crowd any space cleared of formerly-occupying stuff, not one lost sock has returned!

Go figure that one…

Ambivalence #2

“Torn between two lovers… ”

It’s a big deal this year, apparently. Saying “Merry Christmas” has become a sort of battle cry for some who are simply fed up with Christian-bashing associated with tearing down crêches, deleting Christmas carols from kids’ school programs, and the bland “Happy Holidays” now being taken up as an “in your face” insult of the LLMB toward all things Christian about Christmas.

OTOH, whenever I hear “Merry Christmas” (or “have a nice day” for that matter), a small part of me wants to say, “Says who? You’re not the boss of me!” [heh]

For the gripping hand, see today’s post on Whisling in the Light