YES! JOIN FOR FREE!
Enter your address below to receive free email alerts when a new comic or a blog post is published:
You may unsubscribe easily at any time & your email will never be shared with anyone!
SHARE
FOLLOW
SEARCH
EAGANBLOG ARCHIVE
Explore the current collection.

Leave a Comment in Response to:

The Joy of Socks
Shoes have always gotten a lot of attention, as they should. They work harder than any other item of clothing, right down there where the rubber meets the road. What’s more — like hats— they get plenty of fashion focus and their fair share of kinky obsession as well.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I confess that I’m right there with the obsessions, and I want to add that my infatuation is entirely guilt-free. Except for one nagging concern: socks. They take plenty of abuse, too, toiling away in the moist, thankless darkness inside your shoes, but they don’t get anything like the same respect as external footwear. And, unlike shoes and hats, they are not seen as expressions of identity, much less sexual totems.

Now, I don’t want to give the impression that socks are not attractive or that they are not worthy of love. My point, in fact, is that hosiery is capable of beauty rivaling anything on Zappo’s. It’s just that the flashiness of shoes can sometimes blind the casual onlooker to the loveliness, even sensuality, of these under-appreciated underwear for the feet. And no, I am not talking about fishnet stockings. Just the humble, everyday sock is enough to transport me to my happy place.

Assuming it’s the right sock, that is. A sock you care about…deeply. Like the ones I’m wearing right now. They are my favorite pair of socks, perhaps ever, and I confess that they are the inspiration for this ode. What is even more poignant is that our time together will soon be coming to an end. How soon, I don’t know, but soon.

It has been a long good-bye already. Multiple mendings have left the thinning material lumpy in all the wrong places. Even so, I am not sure this will be our last day. Just now, when I saw them in the sock drawer, I felt that same old rush of affection. That feeling has been there from the very first time I pulled them on. So effortless, so soft, yet even now they cling gently to my leg! They stay up, they look great, they have kept their sockly integrity from the beginning. It won’t be easy ending this relationship.

I have trouble throwing shoes away, too, but that is a different matter. Them, I objectify. They can move on to Good Will and find happiness with someone else. Not so, my socks. And yet, when I next toss them in the washer, I know that their elasticity will be weakened ever so slightly. They may emerge with new holes that will call out for repair. Will I heed the call? Will I extend their loyal service for one more wearing?

Or would that to be too cruel? Should I show mercy…and throw them in the trash? Euthanize my hose?

My answer must be no. We are as one...solemates to the end.

Please Note: Tim Eagan will read your comments but he is currently not publishing them.

image
Trump supporters are people who know what they believe.
~ JC, Bonny Doon