Skarpety

     John LaCada had finally appeased those absurd, tiny abominations of nature; his French bulldogs were resting more or less peacefully in the corner of the living room. Hardwood floors ran throughout the house, but the dogs had multiple pieces of bedding and embroidered pillows of their own to lay on and they had found some comfort in one of the oversized dog beds marked with their initials. Christian was sure that it was more their smell than their initials that led them to the bedding, but either way he was grateful for the momentary silence as he had come to John’s house to relax, eat free food, play video games and generally pretend that he didn’t have other, more pressing things to take care of in the outside world.
    As they both sat down on a perfectly worn brown leather couch and waited for the playstation welcome screen to fill the void, Christian thought about some of those outside world, those real world, issues that would have to be taken care of sooner than later. He made a mental list. Bills - car insurance, gym membership, cable and internet, lawyer fees from a mistake years ago. Errands - he needed a physical for health insurance, he needed shots if he wanted to travel outside the united states, he needed to get groceries, he needed to return a movie to redbox, and he always needed some new socks. When looking for socks he had two categories that mattered; thin and tiny white gym socks that couldn’t be seen above the top of his sneakers, and long dress socks that were comfortable, not too thick and definitely not boring black or blue. Christian also wanted to find some inspiration, he wanted to figure out his place in the world, and he wanted to make a difference.
     The last few things, the more esoteric and less exact things were always hovering over him and weighed more than the bills or the socks. He wondered if taking care of the grocery list would help on the path to inspiration, or if it were the other way around. He look at John, his best friend at the moment, and briefly envied his sedentary lifestyle. The plainness of it, the simplicity of having the metaphorical white picket fence and very real wife who would have dinner ready, the perfect itunes library, the family within driving distance for the holidays, the sense of finality and security that came along with all of that must have been comforting. The closest thing he had to that stability was the auto-pay feature on his car insurance.
     Christian took a brief inventory - what did he have that John didn’t? He had traveled, he had a broader range of experiences, he had better stories, more girlfriends, more heartbreak, more close calls, and more debt, baggage, and uncertainty. Christian caught a glimpse of LaCada’s socks out of the corner of his eye. 3/4 cut plain white socks that were no doubt folded or balled up perfectly and sitting in a designated sock drawer before being selected for the day. But really, he thought, if you chose one pair of socks from the other dozen identical pairs, were you making a choice at all?
     “What are you scoffing at?” John half asked, following Christian’s gaze to the floor.
     “Nothing dude, just thinking about all the shit I gotta do after we finish this game.”
     “Well, I’ll go with ya,” LaCada responded, “I don’t wanna sit around here all day. This place blows.”