Shrinking Socks

My socks seem to be shrinking in more than way way.  I think it has something to do with the washing machine.  I can guarantee over a period of a couple of months, perfect large socks will diminish to the size of a child's.  Large men's socks as well.  When I noticed this shrinking phenomenon start I began to by the larger size pairs.  Although a size 8, I'd by the pair which was made for 9 to 11.  There's nothing like a brand new pair of socks on your feet, they feel so soft and comfortable, they are indeed a luxury.  I love my socks.  Preferring to choose those which have a little character to them, some with stripes of different colours, some completely bright and sunny.  Never the dull ones, I can't abide by socks which are just grey or blue or black and are devoid of any pattern.  Even though they are covered up most of the day by shoes or boots, at some time those shoes or boots have to come off and then you are reminded what is on your feet.  I take my boots off at work and replace them with shoes, so I get to see my socks a number of times during the day and when they are bright and new I am proud to change my shoes.  Unfortunately they only stay new for one wearing, then it's in the wash.  Then next time they go on I know they will not be the same.  A little tighter, less softer, less comfortable and their fresh appeal has gone.  However, it is the slow strangulation of my feet and ankles which is the concern.  I know my feet are not getting bigger.  The socks are getting smaller, this there is little doubt about.

When I go to see Sparkling Eyes, my socks shrink again.  Then it is two fold.  For then my sock supply dwindles.  They vanish somewhere between the drier and the sock draw.  If there were a sock draw, which there isn't, then it would be an empty draw for me.  My beautiful socks are appropriated and I rarely get to see them again unless they happen to be on someone else's feet.  Sparkling's or Rock Chick's.  The washing process also has another effect in Sparkling's house.  For there singular socks go missing.  For no reason at all they will disappear leaving a lonely half behind.  The odds and sods draw is where I can always find a miss matched and unhappy pair of socks.  At one time I used to shirk away from wearing odd socks, now it has got to a stage of relief just to be able to find the socks and wear an odd pair.  Silly I know.  I think I must personally mourn the loss or disappearance of the odd sock.  Like the shrinking tight foot feeling when they are first put on the odd sock is another reminder of being out of place and not truely belonging somewhere.  I could go on a sock hunt but this seems like a fruitless afair for there have been times I have high-jacked my own socks back from Scotland to bring them to London and even found odd socks here.  I don't know what odd socks there are in Scotland or in London or whether they could actually reconcile themselves if I put them in the biggest luggage bag I could find and gave it a shake.  In the tepid hope they would gravitate towards one another.  It doesn't happen.  I once had three pairs of socks which were made from a bamboo fabric, I wore them once perhaps twice and never again did they appear.  I liked the idea of bamboo socks.  For a short while anyway.

I am now on the second pair of a set of four pairs of brand new socks.  I am happy.  Little things are important.  Yesterday I was on my first pair, I began the day quite happy but it did not continue this way.  I got temperamental.  The socks didn't do their thing, their mojo had gone.  Today worked out OK so I have two more days left of likely happiness.  Who knows though, some things you can not rely on, missing or shrinking socks being the exception.