One of the many pleasures of crisp fall weather is the return of socks. I love fuzzy, funny socks. Socks are like a secret joke that make your toes giggle. Happy toes make me feel relaxed and mellow. Socks are a good thing. After months of neglect, today the socks came out to entertain my feet. All day, I slid on the wood floors like a child. As my brain started getting fuzzy and I lost the motivation to do anything but my imitation of a sloth, I fixed a drink, loaded my arms with clean clothes that needed to go to our bedroom closet and began the trek downstairs.
I made one step onto the stairs before I remembered that sock feet on our steps are extra slippery. When they are MY uncoordinated, klutzy sock feet on stairs, there is guaranteed hilarity. I fall down the stairs about once a year. Usually, it only hurts my pride. This time I was holding a red drink. The noise from my big fanny falling down the stairs would make enough noise to wake everyone. I think the site of me crumpled at the foot of the stairs with red liquid splashed everywhere would be slightly upsetting to a few of the children. Despite the huge laugh it would give Doug, I walked down the stairs more carefully than any other human has ever stepped. My next pratfall will have to come when the children are all at school.
One thought on “sock paranoia”
“Socks are like a secret joke that make your toes giggle.”
I absolutely agree. I’m a huge fan of cute, fun socks!
Fortunately, all of my steps are carpeted…