My mischievous socks started irritating me. While I was out shopping, they had taken on a life of their own by continually sliding down into my shoes. It wore me out to keep yanking them back up. AARGHH!
Recently, I went shopping at the Base Exchange at Ramstein, Germany. Right after I started shopping, I experienced a familiar, nagging, annoying, creepy feeling. My socks started slipping down into my sneakers. One sure-fire remedy came to mind. I needed a rubber band to hold them up. I can’t recall how many times I’ve seen rubber bands hanging out in my junk drawer at home. Yet, I never thought of stashing a few in my purse for emergencies such as this. Instead, I always used the excuse, “Nah, I won’t need ’em.” Then this shit happened!
I got angry at my damn socks as they defiantly inched down my ankle into my sneakers again! Annoyed more than what any anxiety medication could do to help me, I knew I had to do something. I couldn’t concentrate on my shopping with all this distracting drama going on in my shoes. So I started this weird disco dance. I stopped. I bent down. I yanked my socks back up my legs. I stood back up. Stopped. Bent down. Yank. Stand up. Repeat. My noticeable “crazy dance” became frustrating and highly embarrassing!
Aching for some kind of relief, I thought of stopping to sit on one of the store’s convenient courtesy benches for weary shoppers like me. I could take off my sneakers and socks and just wear my sneakers, but I don’t do sneakers without socks. Suffering in strained silence for a few minutes, I finished my shopping, paid for my shit and went home.
And when I got home, the first thing I did was kick my sneakers off. Since my socks were halfway down my feet again, I didn’t have much work to do to get them off. Then I got a metal bucket, tossed those damn socks in it, and soaked those socks with some flammable liquid. Then I took the bucket out to my backyard and set those damn socks on fire! Like a woman gone completely mad, I screamed into the bucket of fire, “So how ya like my feet now?”
Glad to report that those damn socks are now in a nice pile of ashes in the bottom of that bucket. And it’s safe to say that I will never have to experience that kind of aggravation ever again!
Because starting tomorrow, I’m gonna go shopping for some knee-high tube socks, stripes or no stripes, like the ones I used to wear back in the ’80s. They always stayed put!
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