I'm sitting in LAX, waiting for my flight to Auckland, and all I can think about is a pair of socks. A pair of fluffy, warm socks.
Flights can be chilly. And since my feet have mimicked my personality in liking freedom and wiggle room, I kindly outfitted them with a pair of flip flops. A nice pair of cool, breezy flip flops.
And now my toes are chilly and have nowhere to hide.
I feel a bit like Arthur Dent without a towel. Samwise Gamgee without his rope. Maybe we'll visit Lothlorien (whose river scenes were filmed in Fernside, New Zealand) and Galadriel will give me a pair of socks. Magic elven socks!
Come to think of it, I don't even have real rope or a real towel. My towel is a tiny speck of quick dry REI goodness. Not a fluffy wrap yourself like a burrito towel. My rope- well, I have a twisted clothesline, sewing thread and floss.
And my socks? Stuck with my speck of a towel and rope excuses in my check-in luggage.
Oh, how I miss thee fluffy warm socks! How it won't be the same when we are reunited 13 whole hours from now! For I will have closed toed shoes then and your warming properties will no longer be needed. In fact, my feet will scorn you for the extra layer of confinement you will then provide.
But for now, and for the next thirteen hours, I and my feet will miss you.
1 comment:
Very nice... I'm sure your socks will miss thee as well. The feeling of them embracing your feet and not only warming you but also being warmed BY you. The comfort of being snugged together with your feet, for they are indeed nice feet. Lol.:) I'm like that as well, with my feet as well as my hands. However, I can put my hands in pockets to keep warm, not so with feet. Sad....
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