New Socks

I want to talk about new socks.  I contemplated twittering this (follow @marvelouspatric) but my thoughts on this are far more contemplated than can be expressed in a mere 142 characters.  For you see, today I am wearing new socks.  This has brought me a joy.

New socks are amazing.  They envelope your feet in a way only new socks can.  The moment you take them off and wash them, they lose that.  They no longer are able to softly caress your feet, wrapping them in cottony softness.  They lose that.  Only new socks have that softness.  Only new socks have that cling.

When I wear new socks, I feel like a king.  I forgo my shoes when indoors, often being able to glide through the non-carpeted floors of my home.  It’s not like skating on ice or with wheels so much as if I were suspended, by magic one assumes, a few millimeters off the ground, an almost in-perceivable amount, except to me as I glide joyously.

The moment the socks are washed, they lose this magic.  As one continues to wear them, they stretch, unable to cradle the feet they cover like they once did.

I lament for my socks.  I only get to experience this euphoria for maybe six days out of a year.  Then, they are washed and are condemned to die their slow death, my feet killing they who once loved them so.

In a perfect world, or if I was a crazy millionaire, I would wear socks only once, when they are new.  Each day, I would feel this bliss.  But, if I did, would I even notice anymore?  If new socks were always there, always gently coddling my feet, would I grow complacent with that feeling?  That is a risk I would be willing to take.

Posted by marvelous patric on December 11, 2009 and filed under: comic