I don't like socks. I don't like shopping for socks. I don't like laundering, matching and folding socks. I certainly don't like wearing socks. I don't like brand new socks. I don't like old socks with holes. I don't like tight socks. I don't like loose, stretched out socks. I don't like them sliding down or moving around. (Why won't they stay put anyway?) I especially don't like socks that get abnormally wide towards the toes. I don't like trying to find the missing sock the dryer somehow always eats. I don't like that socks always end up different even if you bought them in the same package. I don't like socks.

I've been pretty happy for several months now. It's been flip flop, bare feet and painted toe nail time. The last several days, however, have required socks.

There's only one reason for that. There's something that I dislike more than socks and that's being cold. Cold feet are awful.

Now, I admit, there have been days in which I have suffered through cold feet because the idea of going to the drawer, pulling out a pair of socks and putting them on makes me shudder a bit but now, with September feeling suspiciously like October (which makes sense since August felt like September), I'm donning socks.

I was complaining about having to wear socks the other day when I was asked if it was the socks or what they represent that bother me. I had to think about that for a minute. You see, as we've already established, I don't like socks BUT since I also don't like cold, particularly winter which I find significantly more distasteful than socks, it seems fair to make the jump that perhaps it is, in fact, the approach of winter (and therefore the passing of summer) and NOT the socks that is the problem.

Hmmm...

Do you know what I decided?

It's both!

Socks AND the story behind the socks.

I want my flip flops.