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This morning, something rare happened. Every sock had a partner. No strays. No “I’ll find it later.” No mystery singles that somehow multiply in the dark corners of the dryer like they’re starting a new life without you. Just… pairs. Across the board. And I stood there for a second longer than necessary, holding two perfectly matched socks like I had just closed a deal. Because let’s be honest—this doesn’t happen often. There’s a reason we have Lost Sock Memorial Day.
Yes, it

My band, Mad Dash, played the Nevada County (California) Fair in 1979 or 1980. I'm the sexy keyboard guy on the far left. Years ago, I was the quirky keyboard guy in a cover band. We played all the crowd-pleasing classics. But our bass player hated playing the songs everyone knew. He wanted the deep cuts. The obscure stuff. The “b-sides.” The songs musicians respect, but nobody actually requests… or even knows, for that matter. One night, we gave in and dropped this random I

First Step: Not this. We’re conditioned early to follow directions. Do what we’re told. Don’t question it. Wait our turn. Be polite. That works… until it doesn’t. Like when you call to cancel a subscription you couldn’t cancel online (convenient, right?), and the person on the other end says, “Sorry, we don’t offer refunds. It’s company policy. There’s nothing we can do.” Most people accept that. They hang up. Maybe they’re angry. Maybe they vent to a friend. Maybe they swear