Dear people who manufactured the socks that I threw away yesterday,
When you were growing up, did you want to be a sock maker?
What drove your passion for sock-making? Was it the love of cozy toes? Or was it all the money? Do you feel like a sock snob with particularly high standards? Do you even wear your own socks?
Hear now. I walk my baby to his day care two or three times a week. It’s not a particularly long walk, but just around the block, maybe five minutes one way. Twice now, your socks have shimmied down – down – down and finished their descent by bypassing my heel and bunching up inside of my arch.
No, this does not rock my world. Yes, it’s a petty, minor inconvenience in the grand scheme of things. Sure, this always happens on the day when it’s hardest to fix my socks past the high boots.
If you’re going to make socks, wouldn’t your objectives me fairly simple?
1) Cover feet.
2) Keep them covered.
What’s the point of making a sock that wants to be an inchworm?
Please invest in a little more elastic. It’s a simple request.