QUESTION: For a man in his mid-40s, what's the socially acceptable amount of grunting-while-doing-simple-tasks-like-leaning-over-to-pick-up-a-(standard-weight)-sock? (We're not talking REI-grade hiking socks or mail order-only compression tights; this isn't a question for billionaires.)
So is the acceptable amount…one (1) grunt? Two (2)? Perhaps a single grunt on the way down and another on the way up. That sounds reasonable to me, not calling too much attention to one’s-unfit-self, but also not being too, well, showy. Gruntlessness reeks of ego. A blatant, outward display of athleticism like that might go over well with the 6am Arctic Zumba crowd, but no one at home appreciates the flex.
So maybe then the acceptable amount is three (3) grunts? Hmm. I suppose you could justify one (1) as you bend down, one (1) as you lift the actual sock from its place, and one (1) on the way back up. Seems like a lot, but it’s probably ok. There will certainly be no medals, though, and, please, stop calling your grunts “a power trio1.”
Should you require more than three (3) grunts, well, you’re lucky to live in an era in which the wearing of sweatpants in public spaces has gained irreversible traction. Let’s just say: four (4) grunts is the D-grade of sock-lifting grunts. Passing, but below average.
Let’s move on.
What about the amplitude of the grunt(s)? There’s a literal quiet dignity to an inaudible grunt. Like, yes, that task was difficult. But, no, it did not merit a banner in the front yard or a blurb on the ESPNNews ticker scroll, much less a half hour special coming to you live from the Poughkeepsie Boys & Girls Club.
A medium-volume grunt is acceptable in most social circles, though be careful of its emasculating effects in more old school, heteronormative, ultra-alpha cultures. Outside of those, however, the medium grunt is the vanilla of grunts, like Keane is the vanilla of Britpop. (Imagine being more middle of the road than COLDPLAY!) "Harmless, unmemorable." There are worse descriptors for your menial task grunting. Vanilla can be a wonderful complement to other flavors, after all.
A bigger, beltier grunt, under the right conditions, can send a message—whether it's the dramatic soundtrack to a heroic gesture or to convey the martyr's thankless, wordless story to the within-earshot, hopefully-guilt-ridden owner of the sock.
Which reminds me, do we need to consider to whom the sock belongs?
In our house? Typically someone age 15 and under. But occasionally an exhausted 40-something whose exhausted toss towards the dirty clothes basket—like so many other deflated hopes and broken dreams—fell just short and/or who simply can’t be giving craps anymore, not this time, not at this weary hour, not at the foot of such a heaping haystack of last straws.
Or perhaps the lone sock belongs to a child’s friend or a niece or nephew who left the sock off after jumping on the trampoline at a late-over (or sleep-over or eat-over or make-a-mess-all-over). All I know is my perfect kids would never abandon socks at a hospitable and kind and unnervingly-attractive-for-his-age neighbor's house, especially socks this threadbare and stain-ridden.
But sometimes? Nobody knows who the sock belongs to. Nobody. The sock may not, at this point, even belong to another sock. A lone wolf, the last of its kind, wandering from room to room in despair, playing chicken with its own extinction. Looking for one last tumble in the proverbial dryer.
Sometimes you might suspect that there’s some kind of time machine portal in your home, perhaps in that one closet you don’t dare open anymore for fear of a cartoon-style avalanche, as the sock may a) be unrecognizable in its filthiness, b) defy the very time period we're currently in, and/or c) not be the kinds of socks that we subscribe to in 12-packs from Amazon.com. So where, and maybe more importantly from whence, did this sock spring?
What Viking horde stormed the shore in the name of Odin and left this single seawater-brined sock in the pillaging wake of our mud room? Or is it possible that this decaying piece of fabric was brought here by a time-jumping Adam or Eve? Did they even wear socks? (It may very well be that the long-awaited finale of Bill & Ted’s Excellent Time Travel Trilogy will finally answer the Adam/Eve/clothing question for us.) I mean, once you start thinking about who the sock MAY HAVE belonged to, can you really justify even a single grunt? Like we can’t be all, "*grunts* Here's the sock you wore to give the Gettysburg Address, Mr. Lincoln..." Where’s the dignity in that? Save your grunts for the socks of the lesser presidents. Johnson? Coolidge? Fine. Lincoln?? Let’s respect the office and keep the grunts to ourselves, please. Things are already divisive enough in this country.
Or, presidents aside, then what if this sock-like artifact is actually the time-bending key to bringing Black Widow or Gamora back from (MCU SPOILER) their tragic movie deaths? I mean, we're talking about a universe where a random rat (see: Ant-Man movie) saves a world that was destroyed by the finger snap of CrossFit Grimace. Yes, SNAPPING! Snapping his fingers while wearing a galactically bedazzled glove you might find on Pinterest Platinum. Oh, sorry, is a magical, time-traveling, death-reversing sock too much now? (Or are you just jealous that you first heard about Pinterest Platinum from me? Use my personal influencer promo code GRUMPTOWN and get 13% off your first mood board!)
If the sock is in the business of time travel and even resurrection, and this is my key to unlocking immortality and finally seeing peak-era Beatles live on a modern sound system, or imposing Covid-era safety precautions on Michael Jordan’s “flu game”, then far be it from me to toss this mysteriously stained and mismatched toddler sock into the garbage or Goodwill pile. What if the space-time continuum, like many worry about our Constitution, hangs by just a single thread of this very sock?
The time machine thing really makes you think.
My Power Trio Power Rankings
Low
Morphine
Jimi Hendrix Experience
Nirvana
Primus
Violent Femmes
Nada Surf
Black Rebel Motorcycle Club
The Police
Rush
Minutemen
Yeah Yeah Yeahs
Them Crooked Vultures
Cream
[I didn’t include hip hop groups because power trio is more typically associated with rock music, but obviously Beasties Boys, A Tribe Called Quest, Run DMC, and De La Soul would be up there.]
Oh! My gosh! Only you could create such entertainment writing about a lowly sock 😄.