Last February, I put on one of my favorite pairs of socks—one of the first pairs I ever made. They’re a lovely toe-up design that I managed to squeak out of one precious hank of Lorna’s Laces Lucky Stripe Shepherd Sock back when I lived in Paris some ten years ago.

And that’s when I found the holes. Four of them. Figuring them for goners, I sent a tweet saying that they were biting the dust, and prepared to say goodbye.

Then the responses urging me to darn them started filling my feed.