More sock stuff

Because the world needs to know about my socks, yes.

Actually, this is kind of a weird, head-cold-related thing. Oh, and before I go into it, I'm not as stuffy today so that's good. My throat hurts, though, so that's bad. Ah well, at least the stupid thing's moving.

So. First, you should know that I'm not generally a cold-feet person. Might be a bit weird for someone who has allergic reactions to the cold, but usually my feet are pretty good. My hands? Not so much. My face, and my legs if I'm not wearing long underwear? Fairly disastrous. But as long as I have half-decent boots on I don't have to worry about extra layers on my feet, for whatever reason.

You know, that really is kind of weird now that I've typed it out.

Anyway.

As is not terribly weird, dealing with this cold (head cold, I mean) has meant dealing with a little bit of a fever and all the odd sweating one moment/shivering the next that comes with it. Not a serious thing at all, really, except.

Except that my feet got cold.

Now, I'm usually barefoot year-round when I'm in my apartment. I wear slippers when I'm at my father's place (partly because the basement floors are cold and partly to avoid the WONderful feeling you get if you aren't paying attention and accidentally step in one of Penny the cat's little "gifts"), but around my place there's no need for anything. But in the past week my feet have been cold. Seriously cold. Cold to the point where, and I kid you not, I started to rash up like I would have if I'd gone out in the snow barefoot.

That's never happened before. Ever.

So I've been wearing socks. Everywhere. Even to bed, which feels very, very strange to someone who never wears socks to bed. I had to, though, because if I didn't wear socks I'd start to get itchy enough that I couldn't sleep.

I don't think I can express to you how extremely weird this has been.

Thank Whomever for the penguins, is all I can say.

I suppose I should explain that.







Yeah, I suppose I should. The penguin socks. Slipper socks -- you know, the kind with little rubbery grips on the sole. They're warm, they're fuzzy, and they're short enough that my lower legs don't feel like they're being strangled if I wear them at night. And I don't really have to thank Whomever, since I know that they were, in fact, a Christmas gift from my sister-in-law a few years ago. I thought I might have a photo of them on the blog somewhere but apparently I don't, so if you want to see some other Christmas socks and just think about the penguins, I suppose you could go here.

The things I take pictures of...

Ah well. In case anyone's concerned, the feet seem to be behaving better now and I think I'll be able to handle bedtime without the penguins tonight.

And since this has turned out way longer a blather than I thought it would (who knew socks could create so many words?), I really should get back to work now.

In my everyday, boring crew socks. You know, in case you wondered.

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One more thing, just because I can't get it out of my head so my two fans my as well have the earworm too:

Dan and Dan's Wikileaks Christmas song