I have a pair of striped fuzzy socks that I bought at a Walgreens for a few dollars. Cheap. They were a spur of the moment thing, me trying to celebrate a holiday in a fashion that would be out of style before they made it through the laundry a week later.
I've never been good at celebrating things in a timely manner. And holidays have a way of ending quite suddenly. In my mind, pumpkins go to rot November 1; Christmas trees turn brown and give up their needles December 26. there's some disconnect with reality, however that keeps me from acting on holiday feelings when I feel them. Frankly I'm impressed I managed to even buy these socks that year - I have a strong suspicion that they were actually a bargain post Halloween sale. They say knowing yourself is the first step to happiness.
And wearing these socks must be one close step behind that kind of happiness. They're fuzzy, black, yellow and orange striped. Or yellow with black and orange bands, depending how you bend your brain around. They're puffy and fill up my shoes, surrounding my ankles in a spouting bed of Halloween themed grass.
A midnight black pair of socks with bright bands of candy corn yellow and pumpkin orange dancing their way across the street in a pair of winter rain sodden boots.
Christmas is coming, ya'll.
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