It's been over a month now since I've worn socks. (Seven summer stitches above my ankle - courtesy of my dermatologist - have kept me off the tennis court.) I have a friend who gloats that he hasn't worn socks in over 20 years - not since he moved to Florida - and I never understood the attraction until this month.
Life is infinitely more comfortable without socks. Though I have worn loafers once or twice to go out, I tend to wear sandals. So my toes are constantly open to the fresh air, enjoying the summer breeze. And my feet look good; they seem to appreciate their new-found freedom.
Life is also easier. No socks scattered on the floor, stinking up the bedroom. Laundry loads are lighter, and you never have to search for the wayward single. When you don't wear socks, you never have to buy new socks. You can just say no to socks.
Though I do sometimes miss that wonderful feeling I'd get from coming home and taking off my socks.
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