A human’s guide to wearing mismatched socks

WoolSocks

Unless you live by the equator, a southern beach, or stomp grapes,  you are usually found wearing socks.   We all have a drawer, or some type of container, dedicated to our multi-color, human-foot-bags.  The rub is always having to pair them, match them, and dig thru the laundry bin looking for an estranged partner.

For the obsessive, you can buy aftermarket foot organizers that allow you to separate and store all the different species of wool, cotton, polyester, yak, silk, and smart wool.  Yes, there are even smart socks that think for you.  High IQ socks. They know things.  You still have to find them, slide them on and wash them, so I’m not sure what IQ can be attributed to the sock, except it’s probably smarter than the sheep it was removed from.

Somewhere from the mentally challenged ewe, to the manufactured sock, the wool gained knowledge.  The wool became smart.  Actually, man got smart and figured out how miraculous wool truly is.  Montana has a lot of sheep. We have more sheep than Wisconsin has Holstein’s.

They aren’t smart.  Turkey’s can beat Sheep at chess all day long.

What makes smart-wool smart is that it’s anti-microbial.  Meaning it fights-off stinky-feet microbes.  You can wear the same pair of socks for 2 to 3 days around the clock, in the shower, on the treadmill, in cowboy boots, hunting Elk, than to the opera.  The warmth properties of wool have yet to be equalled.  That’s a slap in the North Face.

Wool is cooler in summer, and warmer in winter.   It absorbs anti-pollutants and does not release them back into the atmosphere.

The only self-defense sheep have is their thick wool.   Coyote’s try and take a bite out of the sheep’s hind-quarters only to come up with a mouth full of pillow stuffing.  No tasty sheep tar-tar, but dry and fluffy hair pasta.  Anti-microbial properties don’t apply to Coyotes.  My feet thank them for giving up their only means of protection, so I can go a week in the same socks without a stench.

Wool socks should be kept in pairs.  If you mix a polyester sock with wool, you would have one stink-foot and one that smelled like roses.  The two scents shall not meet.

I don’t pair my socks because that means less time to write these mindless rants.

I wear socks that aren’t related.  The key is to wear really long pants or mix colors that compliment each other.  Who concocted the universal rule that socks have to match anyway? If you want a match, play tennis.

The right side of my body does not match my left in perfect unison.  My hands have different road maps on each palm.  One foot is longer and flatter than the other.  My left eye isn’t quite as open as the right by half a wink.  My left leg is shorter than the right leg. When I walk, one knee goes northeast while the other points northwest, and I don’t ride horses.  Nothing matches from one side to the other except the color of my eyes.

So here’s the annotated quick-guide to wearing unmatched socks:  The Christmas season calls for a green and a red sock.  Embrace the sheer beauty of being able to display two colors versus just–plain-bland black and white.   Halloween begs for one orange and one black sock.  Fourth of July should balance one sock colored red with white stripes, while the other is white stars on deep blue.

Your red and orange striped birthday socks should have candles clear-taped around the ankles.  Lighting the candles are always optional.

For the average day, doing whatever we do, grey, black, and white, are neutral colors that go well with anything.  One maroon sock, and one grey work well together. One orange and one yellow connotes fun and laughter.  Two unequal length white and red-stripes create dissonance and intrigue.  One black and one white sock means we are racially balanced and accept all of God’s children. Put your favorite sporting team on, they usually have two dominant colors.

If all this is to confusing, the greatest pair of socks that needs no matching are the ones you don’t wear at all, sans-sock, barefoot and flesh toned.  Matching is always spot on.  If you’re a guy, shave your legs exactly 4 inches up from the ankle bones to make a more pronounced sans-sock effect.

If you live in Montana, and it’s December, forget the last paragraph and be smart,

wool-smart.

 

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About miningtheword

I'm an artist, hack-writer, musician, bicyclist, runner, father, and husband, living the life in Montana. Always enjoying the Big Sky and hopefully making someone smile, think, laugh, ponder, curse and enjoy the days we've been given on earth. Why? Because nobody gets out alive.
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2 Responses to A human’s guide to wearing mismatched socks

  1. urbangrizzly says:

    Great story! Thank you for the “like”.

    -Grizz

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