President Trump is America’s Wet Socks

President Trump is America’s Wet Socks August 27, 2019

It was raining pretty hard when I arrived at work this morning. After I had parked, I grabbed my umbrella and hurried toward the door. There was water flowing across the parking lot. As I neared the sidewalk, walking at a quick pace, I stepped into a puddle that turned out to be about 4 inches deep. Moving quickly as I was, I stepped in with both feet before I realized my predicament. In an instant, my shoes, socks, and the bottoms of my pant legs were completely soaked. I might as well have been dangling my feet into a swimming pool, that’s how soaked I was. I was facing a miserable day of squishing around on pruny feet. Thankfully, we have a big industrial strength dryer where I work. I was able to throw my shoes and socks in it to dry them out. It took nearly  20 minutes in the dryer to get my shoes and socks suitably dry. What took less than a second to mess up took almost 20 minutes to correct. As I was standing there, bare feet on the cold concrete floor, staring at the dryer and swaying to its rhythm, I began to think of my small but annoying situation as a metaphor for our nation’s current state. Donald Trump is America’s wet socks.

When Trump first entered the race for president, it began to rain. We were all sitting in our cars in the parking lot thinking it would blow over soon. But when it didn’t stop raining, we realized we were going to have to deal with some unpleasantness. No, the rain wasn’t going away, but surely it was something we could deal with. We got out of our collective car and started scurrying to the door. That deep puddle we couldn’t see coming was the election in 2016. Before we realized what was happening, we’d stepped in it with both feet. In an instant, everything changed. We were facing a miserable and uncomfortable day squishing around on our pruny feet.

So, we began to look for ways to get dry. The midterm elections of 2018 were our dryer, they gave us hope.

But now, we stand bare footed on the cold concrete floor, we stare blankly at our shoes and socks spinning and bouncing as we’re lulled into numbness by the clanky sounds and rhythms. What took an instant to mess up, we now realize, could take years to fix.

Donald Trump is our wet socks. We somehow managed to step in it with both feet. We can hope that the dryer will erase the damage done, but it’s going to take time.

It’s going to take a long time.

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