There's a touch of the decadent about going out and buying twenty new
pairs of socks and then chucking out practically all of your old ones.
Sure the total cost is fairly small - how much does a 5 pack of plain
black cotton socks cost anyway? - but these socks have encased your feet
for the last year. Or more. Whilst they weren't perfect and you were
reduced to finding approximate pairings in many cases but ... dammit,
they were still serviceable. It's a bit like buying the mega-giganto
bucket of chicken because it's only 1 quid more expensive than the 3
piece combo and then chucking half of them away.
It just seems so wrong.
Which is why buying a complete new sock wardrobe feels so right.
And each morning - Oh my! For the next 3 weeks every morning you are
presented with unsullied rows of virginal socks - like a comfy cotton
regiment of ankle warmers, all standing perfectly to attention. Every
day! For 3 weeks!
Bliss.
It's like getting into a newly made up bed. Only, in some ways, better.
Like getting into a bed in which the sheets are new and made up for you
each and every morning.
Mmmm, new socks. I salute them.