She ties knee-highs and cracks wise

As a follow-up to cleaning out my closet, I dived head-first into the dresser, determined to root out every unnecessary item in the drawers. There were two small drawers stuffed to the max with different shades of pantyhose and knee-high stockings.

My bad knees kept me wearing flat-heeled shoes in the last few years that I worked, so I switched from wearing dresses to wearing slacks and switched from pantyhose to knee-highs. Each time I bought knee-highs I'd buy several pairs in the same shade, so if one of them got a run or a snag, the stocking on the other foot wouldn't be useless. This seemed like an economical idea and, to a degree, it was. The problem was that each week I'd put all the stockings I'd worn in a mesh laundry bag and wash them, but it was easier to pull out a new pair than to sort and match the stockings in the bag.

The other day I pulled them all out of the drawers and put them in a laundry basket, then sat on the sofa and sorted them while I watched TV. I believe I have enough pantyhose and knee-highs to last for the rest of my life, especially since I rarely wear them anymore. Additionally, there were enough mismatches and unwearable knee-highs to fill a plastic grocery bag, which I did. I should have thrown those out immediately, but it seemed like they might be useful for stuffing something if I could only figure out what to stuff.

The next day Kim came over. We were sitting on the sofa talking when I mentioned to her that I'd sorted all those stockings and that every now and then Levi would come running from my bedroom with a folded pair of knee-highs in his mouth. I couldn't figure out where he was getting them (still don't know). I told her about the plastic bag of reject-stockings and that it was not in a place where Levi could get to it.

Since Levi obviously liked playing with them, we got the idea of knotting the stockings together to make dog toys, so as we visited we began to do just that. When Kim noticed how enthusiastically we were both working, she started to laugh about us and our "redneck crafts." We both got the giggles and continued to make jokes at our own expense while we worked.

I was just knotting my pile of stockings together, but Kim, who is more artistic than I, was knotting hers, then braiding them. I finished first and tossed my toy to Levi, who promptly began to rip it to shreds. Kim glanced up at him, shook her head in mock sadness, and quipped, "Dammit! We can't have nice things."

Unfortunately, even Kim's tightly braided toy was no match for Levi's sharp teeth. He promptly tore off enough small pieces to create choking hazards, so all of our fine handiwork ended up in the garbage in a matter of minutes. Our efforts might not have provided much entertainment for him, but the two of us really had a good time.