Squeaky Socks

My Dear Fellows and Dear Princess Normal,

Here you see Punky, attempting to disembark my chest of drawers. Bless him, he starts every day by jumping up there and rolling about and being just adorable and making me late for work. 

So right after he jumped down, I had to go to work. Dammit.

Today's topic of conversation with Tanvi was, "Things That Make Us Recoil". This was because she was cracking her knuckles and this noise made Smock squirm with horror. 

It reminded me of something that happened just the other day. I came home from work and Caro seemed relieved to see me. She was in the middle of hanging up some clothes and she pointed to a pair of my socks on the floor.

"Can you hang those up for me?" she asked.

I was a bit puzzled. They were my big thick thermal socks that I wear when it is cold in the flat. But I did as I was bid. Still, there was something about Caro's demeanour that made me wonder if there was a spider on the floor or something.

But no. Just socks.

My puzzled face must have prompted Caro to explain. "It's that wool," she told me. "I HATE it when it is wet! There's something about the texture that makes the wool go squeaky and it CREEPS ME THE EFF OUT."

"Seriously? These socks?" I said, showing them to her. She visibly recoiled.

"Yes! Yes! Just hang them up! I'll be fine once they are dry!" she continued.

So I did as I was told. 

"But it's funny," I explained to Tanvi, "that you can be married to someone for over twelve years, never knowing that they are frightened of squeaky socks."

There should be some sort of marriage disclosure form. Or something.

S.