These are the socks I’m wearing today. Aren’t they cute? Yes, one is happy green frogs on white and the other is colorful hearts on white. What?!
Oh, right, they don’t match. You mean you match your socks? Well, I suppose you have boring . . . I mean conventional … . . . OK, let’s just say easy-to-match blue or white or tan socks. All one color. That’s fine. That’s good, in fact. That’s actually what I suggest after years of buying Fun Socks. After what you might call a Fun Socks Addiction. Now when I buy socks, except for the occasional Fun Socks that I just can’t pass up, I buy socks that are All One Color so I can easily match them because until all of my many, many (many many) pairs of Fun Socks wear out, I wear them like this. Unmatched. Because honestly, taking the time to match my many, many (many many) pairs of Fun Socks would basically suck the life out of any of my free time, and that’s really not what free time is all about now, is it? So I wear mismatched socks.
I have all kinds of Fun Socks. Boy, if I could get them all together and take a picture of them . . . it would be a mess! You wouldn’t be able to see anything but a big mess of socks, actually, so I’ll just describe some of the Fun Socks that I can remember at this moment. I have a pair of green socks with vegetables on them. Those are fun. I have white socks with girls walking dogs. I have socks with elephants, dogs, and reindeer. Those are three different socks, mind you, not one pair of socks with all three of those animals on them. I have Santa Claus socks. I have one pair of socks with a snowman on it where you have to fold over the top to see the snowman. If you lift up the top, it looks like the snowman’s underwear. *heeheehee*
I have socks with flowers on them. I think those are kind of boring, actually. I’d rather have monkey socks, which I do have. Or fruit socks, which I also have. Or socks with shoes on them. Or pots and pans. Or a smiley-faced sunshine. Or stars and moons. Cosmetics.
I actually started buying fun socks as a matter of necessity. My husband tends to be a bit . . .ummm . . . oblivious. Absent-minded. He was wearing all of my socks and stretching them out, not noticing that they were half the size of his feet and I was getting furious that I was running out of socks to wear. My brilliant idea was to buy Fun Socks; that way, he would be sure to notice that they weren’t his socks. So I bought them, and the more I bought, the more hooked I became. They became this obsession until I couldn’t stop buying them. Any time I saw a new and different pair of Fun Socks, I just had to buy them, if not for me, then as a present for a friend or family member. You see, I got some of them hooked too, even if just a little bit.
But the matching of the socks? That finally went by the wayside. These days, I match the background of the socks and that’s it. If they’re both white and have different patterns, I’m good to go. Who cares if one has happy frogs on it and the other has hearts on it? Not too many people look at my feet anyways. And for those who do — well, anyone who knows me wouldn’ t be all that surprised. Anyone who doesn’t probably just thinks I’m out on a day pass, and who am I to disavow them of that notion.
Me and my Fun Socks. This makes me want to take a little shopping trip. Just to look. Really. All I want to do is look. I don’t buy anymore. I promise.
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