The Red Sock

When I was little one of my primary obsessive compulsive avenues was “is it a sock night or not a sock night?” I lived in abject terror of not wearing socks and waking up with cold feet OR wearing socks and waking up with hot feet. My parents indulged me so sweetly- “let’s think, seems like you’ll want a sock but let’s go cotton.” I finally took to wearing my father’s tennis socks, which were both big and bulky and light and breezy, and worked across both sock and non sock nights.

This is the only adult sock that’s ever given me that same feeling.