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  I was over at a buddy's house the other day when he took his socks off and smelled them. I just looked at him quietly, formulating a few thoughts in my head before one finally surfaced.
"What the hell are you doing?" I asked, drawing my face together like a stale prune.
He looked up at me, still holding them in his hand, and with all seriousness, said, "Smelling my socks."
I waited for more.
He finally continued, "I love these socks, man. They're fantastic! They're wool and they're the most comfortable pair I have." To him, this justified everything.
I waited another second before saying, "So you're smelling them?"
 He shrugged and said, "I thought I might get another day out of them." He threw them on the floor. "I mean, they're always funky but you never know."
You never know? You wear a pair of socks for twelve hours, at a job where you're on your feet all day, and you think there's a chance in hell they might still be fresh? For God's sake, man, the socks were molded into the shape of his feet! You could actually see where his toes had been! I asked him why he didn't just buy some more socks like them and he said, "I don't know where these came from. They're not even mine, they just showed up one day."
I figured I'd cut it off right there. Each time he spoke, I had more questions and I knew I'd never be satisfied. But I'll leave you with one edifying thought.
They just showed up one day. |
Ross Cavins
