Have you ever tried to put your socks on with one hand? If you haven’t, try it some time and let me know how easily it worked out for you and if you’ve decided to do it all the time. I really don’t have a choice because my left hand doesn’t have much utility when it comes to getting dressed, but I can button down a dress shirt, one-handed, with less aggravation than I have in getting a sock properly installed onto my right foot.
Now that nighttime temperatures have regressed downward into the 30s, I have moved into Wigwam, diabetic, merino wool boot socks because I have yet to find anything that doesn’t involve batteries warmer than wool Wigwams when it comes to footwear. And before you ask, I have, in fact, owned a few pairs of socks that were heated with D-cell flashlight batteries but that’s another story for another time. Suffice to say that I don’t recommend you waste a lot of money on any.
The wool Wigwams are bulky with soles that are lined with a moisture-wicking material. They have to be pulled on exactly right to fit and perform correctly. That’s fairly easy to do, one-handed, with my left foot because I can cross it over my right knee and it’s right there in front of and in easy reach of my good right hand. The trouble begins when I cross my right foot over my left knee and try to reach it with my right hand. Try it when you have time on your hands and need some amusement in your life.
I realize that most of you don’t need to cross your legs to put your socks on but, thanks to Mr. Parkinson and a couple of strokes, I don’t have much choice in the matter if I want to deal with my feet. I can get the sock started without elevating my foot but I can’t come close to finishing the job with these heavy, winter socks.
So last night I grabbed a pair of Wigwams out of my sock drawer and noticed that one had a hole in the toe. Loretta said she’d sew it up after supper. These things are so pricey that repairing them is more than worth the trouble. My winter socks sometimes cost more than my shoes are worth. But I intended to take a shower before supper, so I simply reached into the drawer and grabbed what I thought was a loose Wigwam.
It turned out to be a different brand of wool boot sock and I didn’t notice it was several shades of gray darker than the Wigwam until I had spent over 5 minutes getting it to fit onto my right foot. I went back to the drawer but I couldn’t find it’s mate, so there I was, dressed in mismatched socks and really not much worried about it because it is not yet cold enough to notice that my right foot isn’t as warm as my left.
Because of severe circulation problems, I wear my socks to bed year round. Giggle all you want, but it’s the only way I can sleep without getting cold feet. Those foot warmers I’ve tried using are okay as long as I can keep my feet on or under them but they are essentially useless 10 minutes after I go to sleep because neither them nor my feet will stay put long enough for them to work all night.
I remember, one time in my youth, when Uncle Stevie was sitting in the living room and his pants rode up his ankles to reveal that he was wearing mismatched socks.
I pointed out that his socks didn’t match and he said, “They’re not supposed to.” I asked him why and he said, “Well, one of ‘em’s blue and the othern’s purple but they’re the only 2 cleanuns I could find this morning. I druther have clean dry, feet than to try to stay in style all the time.”
So that’s my philosophy, too, for the next couple of days. Loretta has darned up the hole in my matching Wigwam, but it’s too much trouble to change it back to my right foot before I take another shower. I’ll make sure they match the next time.
In the meantime, I figure the UK football team is sleeping better this week. Now that they’ve lost to Georgia they can go to bed knowing they don’t have to play Alabama.