I’ve come up with a fair number of inventions in my time, but most of the things I’ve wanted to invent have already been invented by someone else.
The antibacterial wipes you pull out of a canister one at a time to wipe down countertops and door handles? My idea. Clorox beat me to it. By about three years.
Frozen yogurt? That was mine, too. I was freezing yogurt in high school and pretending it was ice cream. But it froze like granite and was nearly impossible to chip off a bite to eat. Eventually scientists invented a process to keep frozen yogurt smooth and creamy. I like to think I was in on the ground floor.
When Facebook dawned, our son registered his dog, Max, for an account. Max immediately got 20 furry friends. I toyed with launching Pawbook. I never got around to it. Just as well. I’d be tangled in lawsuits with Mark Zuckerberg and defending Marmaduke from accusations of fake news posts.
All of which brings me to the Sock Slider. Have you seen it? Oh my.
The Sock Slider is one of those As Seen on TV wonders. It is a small, blue plastic contraption that you stretch a sock over and then slide in your foot.
I’ve been beating myself up for days over the Sock Slider. It so should have been mine.
“Why?” you ask.
Because anyone who has ever engaged in battle with a pair of tights or pantyhose should have envisioned the Sock Slider.
What woman can’t count the number of near-death experiences she’s had trying to put on pantyhose? There you are, stretching an elastic waistband made with incredible built-in resistance, holding it taut, while attempting to scrunch up the legs of tights or pantyhose, standing on one leg, poising the other leg for insertion when ZAP! You lose control of the waistband. It zings back on you and catapults you onto your backside.
If someone already patented a Sock Slider, you can be sure the Pantyhose Slider isn’t far behind.
I’m not happy with my invention record to date, but I’m not out of the game yet. I have more ideas in the works.
OK, one more. The outdoor mat that cleans the bottom of your shoes. It’s like a wet jet Swiffer or an upside down Bona mop. You step on the mat; your weight triggers a mist beneath your shoes. Then you wipe your shoes dry on the textured (machine washable) upper half of the mat and enter the house with clean shoes.
Call me, Shark Tank.
I know, I know. I’m keeping my day job.