Maybe 10 years ago, we were still new to the area and benightedly thought we should make a difference and be active in the town. In the course of events, we were invited to join the Rotary. For those of you who don’t know, Rotary is typically a group of local business people who get together and finance projects in the town for which other funding isn’t available.

Rotary members are expected to contribute their own money, not just gather if from others … which is why poor people don’t show up on the lists of Rotary members.


Thus the people in Rotary tend to be wealthier which in Uxbridge, isn’t quite as wealthy as, say, their equivalents in Boston.

Garry and I were both already retired and struggling to keep a roof over our heads, so wealthy we were not. But it was nice to be invited and we though maybe we could find a way to contribute, even if it wasn’t money. We assumed they were eager to have Garry for his celebrity value since this wasn’t long after he stopped working. He was very easily recognized as “that guy from the TV.” I was just the “add-on” wife.


I don’t think we’d been in the group for six months when they asked Garry to be President of the Uxbridge Rotary. We are not innocents or naive. We knew what it really meant … that no one else wanted the job.

We talked about it when we got home from the meeting.

“That’s a lot of work,” I pointed out.

Garry nodded agreement.

“I think you should say no. They think you’re new enough to think it’s an honor.”


Garry nodded agreement.

We quit Rotary. I don’t know who — if anyone — they found to be President, but I was absolutely, positively certain Garry was not the guy for the job. Or me, either. I hope they found someone … Their hearts were in the right place.


Who doesn’t wonder where the other sock from the pair went when it disappeared from the dryer? Don’t you wonder where they’ve gone? It seems to me that with every load of laundry, a pair of socks goes in, but only one comes out.

Does the dryer eat them?

I have bags of lonely, single socks in the back of my closet, all yearning for the day when their long-lost mates will reappear.

My husband theorizes that missing socks go to a parallel universe in which people find extra socks. Two socks go in to their dryer, but three come out.


I like to think somewhere in that universe live the mates to my lonely socks. Somewhere in the great galaxy, they patiently wait for destiny to reunite them with their mates. It’s kind of romantic. Depending on how you feel about socks.

I asked my husband if this theory also explains the Tupperware problem. I have many orphaned lids with no bottoms that fit. Yet I also have plenty of bottoms for which I can find no matching tops. Is my missing Tupperware in the same parallel universe as the socks?

My husband looked at me as if I were crazy. Impossible, right? Because the dryer is the wormhole to that other universe and I swear I’ve never put my Tupperware in the dryer. But maybe the dishwasher is a secondary wormhole. You can never be sure about wormholes. They can appear anywhere, anytime.

missing tupperware universe

The good news? Wormholes can reverse themselves — at least, according to my husband (but I’m not sure who else). Thus it’s possible one day we will begin to find spare socks in the dryer … and superfluous Tupperware pieces in the cabinets.

I’m going to hang onto my bags and boxes of single socks and mismatched Tupperware. I advise you to do the same. If we run out of space to store all this stuff, we’ll simply have to find a way to move to a parallel universe where there’s more storage space.