Joe lives in my building. Joe lives with autism.

He sees and experiences the world differently from me. He also communicates differently. No riddles, straight to the point.

Let me tell you a story about Joe from last winter.

~

I was in the laundry room, putting clean clothes in the dryer, when Joe walked in. He paced the room before loading the washing machine closest to me.

“Hello, Sir.” (He always calls me ‘Sir.’) “How are you today?”

“Doing well. How about yourself?”

“I’m doing good. It’s laundry day.”

We exchanged pleasantries with the chorus of tumbling washers and dryers chanting in the background. After finishing our separate tasks, we left the laundry room together.

I pushed the button to the elevator and we waited. The laundry room continued to sing, but the song was muffled.

A minute passed before the elevator door slid open. “First floor,” declared an electronic voice. Joe and I stepped into the car. The door closed with a soft, metallic thud.

I pressed the button to the 12th floor and Joe pressed the button to the 5th. I looked down and noticed he wasn’t wearing shoes. Or slippers, like I was. Just socks.

The elevator floor was dirty and wet. Snow had melted, left behind by those coming in from outside.

“Your socks are getting soaked, Joe. You should wear your shoes next time.”

“That’s okay, Sir. They always dry. And I have lots of other socks I can wear.”

~

I don’t know about you, but I can’t stand wet socks. Stepping in a puddle of water, dog pee, whatever. It’s such an unpleasant feeling, when dry and warm become soggy and squishy.

It’s uncomfortable. Worse, it’s inconvenient.

But Joe’s response that day was oddly profound. Simple on the surface but deep with meaning. That’s why I haven’t stopped thinking about it.

Life is as good or as bad as you tell yourself it is—and the ups and downs are all temporary. 

Too often, we glaze over the positive and focus on the negative. We exaggerate the trivial to the point it impacts our inner peace. 

Your day is ruined by coffee spilled on your favourite shirt, a stone chipping your windshield, the person butting the line. 

Wet socks.

You can view such things as a pain in the ass, give into frustration, and allow them to derail your day. Or you can change the narrative.

See the inconvenience for what it is. Nothing serious, nothing meaningful, nothing life threatening.

We face adversity daily. It’s best to accept this fact. It’s healthier. 

Let go of bitterness. Stop holding onto resentment. Remember, moments of discomfort don’t last forever. 

Like Joe said, wet socks always dry. And there are other pairs you can wear.