Pillows For Feet

Once upon a time I just bought socks. I bought them and never thought a thing about them, except possibly when I was young and "slouch socks" were the fashion. I merely made sure that I was buying that which was cool. I had too, as at that time we were all on crack about fashion and were "rolling" our pant legs up and socks were visible to the gaping masses where ever we went. This was the most consideration I gave them.

Ma washed them, I wore them. When I needed new ones, we went to the store and I bought a big bag of them. Like 10 pair for 6 bucks.

Then one day, innocently minding my own business, focusing on the important shit in life, like chocolate, wine and mule driving, I happened to see these particular socks. They came in the most delicious colors: Ballerina Pink, Baby Blue, Luscious Lavender and Terrific Teal. Then I touched them. OMG, I nearly had an orgasm!

These were, and still remain, the softest socks I have ever felt. On the Planet people! I haven't touched every sock on the planet, but I am telling you, I don't need too. These are the softest. GET OFF ME!

I bought them, stuck them in a drawer fit for the special socks they are, lined with smell good paper, sachets and all my other too goddamn gorgeous to ever wear things, and they remain there. New. Untouched. Coveted, hoarded. Virgins.

And thus began my sock fetish. I have had these socks for over ten years! I cannot bring myself to wear them, as the mules shed insanely. I have other socks that started out soft( not like these, but still pretty fluffy) and by the time I took them off, they were pilled with dog hair and ruined forever. So I just keep them to stroke with love and rub my face onto, tucked safely away in the delicious smelling lovely drawer. I need help, yes, but lets face it, there are so many other issues to fix first that this one is way way down the list so shut it! Amok amok amok!

The hubby lifted a pair out of the drawer( I have no Idea what he was doing in it, except I also keep my delectable unmentionables there too, and possibly he was hoping to yank one out for me to parade about in, which lets face it, every guy should expect that to happen at some point...but I digress...)

He held these lovely little crack like socks up and said, "When did you get these and how come I have never seen you wear them? They look brand new?" I took immediate action. I lept over a mule snatched them from his rough hands and started screeching at him!
I know, I was shocked too! I told him NEVER to touch those and walk away now. These were special socks. Precious socks. Irreplaceable socks that should never be handled.

I have no idea if I could get more, I have never looked to see if they are still made, and I even know the brand. Which means my psychosis is really out of control, but ya'll knew that about me.

I recently found some similar socks at a local drug store, and while I wear some of them, I find that the ones I like best, the color or the texture, are sitting right beside the original ones. In the dark delicious space I have always relegated the delectable things to. Languishing there for me to covet, and hoarde.

Who knew socks could be so important? Perhaps if I didn't have the mules, which lets face it, is NEVER going to happen, Get Off Me! I would slip them on my feet, after the requisite pedicure and spa treatment (you know they have to be in super special shape before I could consider allowing these socks to be put on) and I would sit unmoving, silently goose-bumping with the sheer pleasure of having them on...before ripping them off and stashing them away again so nothing untoward happens to them!

I need serious help. Like a team of therapists.

So there you have it. My sock issues. I have them. They aren't going away. But then, neither are the crack socks. So I'm ok with it.

Queenie. Sock it to me!!!